8Man's Journal
by Betrayed Dreams
Summary: His future was as expected. His nature was fathomable. But his extent was unknown. He never changed. But will he? "No"
1. On Road of Past Memories

A/N: Let me be honest. I had no intention of furthering '8man's Journal'. It was an experiment, a test -footage, if you will, to check whether my account works. I'm pretty new at this but I have decided that this story can be written and finished. "I see an ending" as they say.

So here I present to everyone my new and improved: "8man's Journal: Redux Edition". This story will be updated from now on and I hope I can write, edit and post in a timely fashion.

Here's to making it official: I don't own anything. Neither Oregairu nor Watchmen. Don't send Rorschach to break my fingers. I need them to type. And don't send Hikigaya to make me depressed enough to drop this project.

P.S. I won't be saying my catchphrase at the top for I fear I will live upto my name.

Chapter 1: (Provided by BlackLiszt): At 8 to midnight, all the agent and SuperSaiyan crew, go out and round up everyone who knows more than they do.

8man's Journal October 10, 2035.

Random acts of violence clear cobwebs from old reels and an obsolete projector plays a recording from yesteryears underneath the folds of my mind. Compared to present footage, those unfortunate, like me, called again to re-enact their roles find glaring differences in their performances. Reminiscing about my past brings upon a sense of nostalgia.

First day of high school. Leaving early in anticipation. Riding a bicycle. Getting in an accident.

Bad choices taken and acted upon on a whim, with no desire to become a saviour in order to gather some modicum of goodwill. No need to become something you are not. No wish to change and become a worthy individual.

Past scene becomes clear in my mind's white sheets. Everything appears in my psyche as apparitions and ghosts. Looking back, I can envision, a ditzy airhead, taking her dog out for a walk on a misty morning many, many years ago. Dog escapes its leash and runs into the path of an incoming limousine.

Driver spots dog. Hits break. But alas, is late.

Or so he thought.

He was indeed involved in an accident, but instead of finding a dog beneath his tires he finds me, a teenager, a high school student, thrown a few feet away, lying on the road, hurt and injured. I had rescued the dog by shielding him from the impact of the car at the cost of my own body.

My price: A fractured leg, a three weeks stay in a hospital, and a guaranteed life of as a loner.

/

Fogs of past are lifted from my cloudy eyes, in favour of skimming through present roads, where a parody of my history unfolds. Children are skipping schools and finding entertainment in cruelty involved with burning live ants under the focus of a magnifying glass. Those who have graduated from this basic lesson of torturing insects find creativity in vandalism and drawing graffiti.

Most stop here.

But some plan to score their way into college.

Changing their mindset from curious cruelty to sagacious sadism begins with malice directed towards animals. Career criminals and perverse psychopaths begin their humble origin and receive their first taste of an insatiable hunger by burying bodies in their own backyards of strays no one will miss, before setting their targets on neighbouring pets.

I lost Kamakura to one of these incidents.

My paranoia finds meanings in utter nonsense.

Currently a stray dog is being pelted by small stones and pebbles in a sick game, played by a group of seemingly innocent young kids, thought to be incapable of such atrocious acts. Their morbid imagination turns into demented fascination after listening to repeated whelps and shrieks, emanating in the form of anguished barks from the jaws of this homeless pup.

Unseen to them but seen by me, froth seems to be accumulating in the corners of this mutt's mouth. It's displaying signs of an erratic behaviour and showcasing an unnatural fear of water, gathered in a nearby puddle.

Dog's hydrophobic, infected with rabies. No cure.

These stupid kids are the real ones in danger but they don't know it. They will be bitten by a mad dog unless someone steps in.

History is playing a practical gag upon me, waiting for me to repeat my sins, letting me know that I have learned nothing from my past.

…From that fateful day.

Here I am, riding on a motorcycle, upholding laws by travelling below the speed limit, by a respectable margin. And there I will be, up ahead on this very road, a few moments away from saving a couple of random kids, by getting gnawed off and chewed up by a mad dog in their stead. Fate is a bitch and I'm its chew toy.

I will not disappoint. I will fail and fall like this was meant to be.

One particularly large hunk of stone hits this ill dog straight in the eye. It howls in agony and scampers quickly into the middle of the street to work on an offensive manoeuvre. I can see the maddening anger filling this beast's eyes, the primitive rage urging to attack those who are hurting it for sport and nothing else. From its vantage point, it is one leap away from these insolent kids. One leap and he would be on them, tearing flesh from bone, till these brats are nothing but raw meat and blood.

I see it lowering itself, applying pressure on its hind legs, minutes from soaring through the road and landing on its tormentors, preparing to teach them a lesson in pain and torture.

I won't be reaching them in time. They are on their own. I have defied my role in history.

Someone else can do this dirty deed for today and I will be satisfied with wallowing in my own guilt and self pity for a night. My vision is upon the street before me, my hands firmly grasping the handle of my motorcycle and I keep seated on my ride, hearing the mechanical noise of my engine in favours of those noises of violence that I will be expected to hear soon.

I lower my speed and look away.

A second later, my ears pick up the sound of metal hitting flesh, followed by a deafening, beastly howl which concludes with cries of children.

I have taken my eyes off the street for a moment and here I find myself, a witness to another road accident. Focusing on the dog and the kids, I might have missed the speeding vehicle approaching from the opposite side of the road.

This time around I'm not the victim. I take in the scene and it seems to be mocking me, telling me of the road that I had not taken.

This black limousine with a hood ornament, depicting a winged angel, often runs me over in my nightmares and I find my body in a similar state to what is now left of this dog that is no longer living- body reduced to a bloody botch on a clean street, bones grinded, skin peeled off, and a face no longer recognisable.

I ask my nightmares to make an appointment with me for when I sleep.

I have stopped my humble motorcycle from moving forwards upon this road. Providing safe passage to this daunting, luxurious vehicle, a symbol of power and influence, seems a moot point. I kill my engine and wait, watching the automobile involved in a vehicular homicide pull up close to me. The driver decides to lower his window and come forth with an apology. But before he could make one, he is stopped and he escapes with his dignity intact by not being forced to humble himself before someone like me.

Upon receiving orders from his master, he lowers the window at the backseat and I'm offered a small peak at the occupant, lounging in comfort, while remaining completely unscathed and unruffled, after being involved in an accident, eerily similar to one in her past.

…My past.

"Problem?" She asks.

Her delicate fingers never miss a beat and she continues typing in her laptop.

She feels it below her, to lift her cold gaze to meet mines. Nowadays I'm insignificant. Like that mutt she had her driver run over.

"Yes" I say

"Contact my lawyer" she replies.

With a gentle nod she instructs her driver to dismiss my presence and begin their journey which was needlessly delayed. Tinted windows are in the process of being pulled up, moments away from hiding her cold, frozen visage once again.

I get a glimpse of her icy blue eyes at the penultimate moment and my ears hear a shivering murmur:

"Here's how you save others Hikigaya Kun."

Her limousine exits the block and leaves the neighbourhood, leaving me to think of a witness report which will ultimately be squashed by the authorities when I hand them to my superiors. My mind's voice drawls in a dull monotone while I kick-start my motorcycle and leave for a predestined location on the other side of the city where desolation and depravity awaits my arrival.

If minds can be read, then my journal will prove to be an unsavoury and disgusting piece of today's modern literature as evident from my present entry:

"Watching a rabid dog mauled to death made my day this morning. This beast was suffering from a terminal disease and those involved with running him over would argue that it was euthanized in a painfully-harmless fashion. Human beings cannot afford this luxury which has been provided to this creature out of the goodness in someone's cold heart.

Looking into the beast's belly, leaking blood and fluids all over this broad street made me wish for rain to wash away this stench from my nose.

Cold rain, cold shower, was a need of this hour.

Felt an unsettling need to take my head out of the gutter and wash away this memory down the drain with a cup of stale coffee. Thought, whether it was possible to clean myself in a puddle, by swimming in my worries, in this breeding ground meant for tadpoles.

…Frogs remind me of a childhood memory and I pulled away immediately.

Instead, I gallop upon my mechanical steed like the exiled knight that I am.

I have been called upon and entrusted with dirtying my hands by sticking them deep in mud and filth. Catching killers and unearthing conspiracies have become my source of income, after I was forced by circumstances to work in a government institution filled with dishonesty and corruption. Unimportant trivia.

I have never succumbed to temptation and become a sleaze. Shedding light on who's in bed with whom, solely for the purpose of closing an investigation became my modus operandi. I help put away those involved in shady politics and those running an underground prostitution ring in a same cell and ignore them. Plugging my ears with indifference, I tune out their collective curses and threats. These are powerful men waiting judgment from a lenient justice system.

Narrative never changes.

Pay billions in bail and stay away from me.

Fear me- my eyes, my perceptions, my notions.

I won't hesitate to humiliate.

I am forbidden from glowing with others in the light but I can watch them from afar, illuminating my small, diminished world.

I live a lie.

I am a lie.

I have accepted the fact that I'm beyond saving and if someone offers me a hand to pull me up, saying they can help me from this quicksand like existence I call life, I will swat that hand away before it reaches me and hiss:

"Never"

/

I never had a choice. Now I think none of us did. Clogs in a clock of a time bomb, waiting to be set off and obliterate our narrow sense of sanity. We followed footsteps of presidents, without knowing about their chances of getting impeached and we chased after people meant to betray our dreams. Indecent turns in life, cutting corners, taking shortcuts became a norm, a way of life.

Getting bought and sold by entrepreneurs like Yukinoshitas' and Hayamas' was all just good business. Licking milk money from palms of snobs and sluts ceased to be disgusting. We willingly gave up our will to these leeches and capitalist and now a downward spiral paved by our own greed and gluttony has begun to take shape in this shapeless future forming before my own dead fish eyes.

Had everyone preserved the status quo none of this would have happened.

Government have no solution to an oncoming economic depression caused by clueless law enforcement agencies, unable to make progress in investigating a counterfeiting ring and then fearing reprimand, they summon me to take away the heat. I'm currently a sergeant, suspended for an indefinite period and I have been asked by an 'insect' to have a look and provide a guiding hand.

Welcome to Hikigaya Hachiman's present day world

Here blind leads blind.

A/N: So how was it? Hope this doesn't look like a copy-n-paste job. Please leave a review mentioning a chapter name like "BlackLiszt" did. That will be super helpful. I'm not good at naming things, as you can understand.

Am I forgetting something? Um… yeah…

This was a terrible idea.

Take deep breath and whisper in an inaudible tone:

Here's to betraying your dreams.

Will update soon


	2. Disquiet on the home front

Chapter 2: Disquiet at the Home-Front

A/N: I don't own Oregairu and Watchmen. Thanks 'narutoDkurosaki' for bringing up this confusion. Allow me to clear everyone's confusion:

I saw some similarities:

For example: Rorschach won't compromise even in the face of Armageddon and 8man refuses to change from societal peer pressure. Both are loners and a bit of a weirdo. And most importantly, Rorschach writes in a journal and 8man makes great monologues in his mind.

And voila! We have what we have. I hope this chapter will clear somethings up.

8man's Journal October 11, 2035

Can't remember when I fell asleep.

Don't know what made me wake up.

Sleep is a comfort I am unable to afford at my present condition, but I accept whatever droppings of sand that fills my eyes. Nightmares are a short price to pay and I acknowledge them, for I have given up on dreams a long while ago.

Dead fish eyes unwrap into sharp slits and my body rises from my bed on its own volition.

I am going through mundane everyday actions.

No thinking involved.

My 'insect' roommate is accustomed to waking up early and for that I am eternally grateful.

If I had to wake up and witness him, with his face, greeting me every morning, I would have suffocated myself in a pillow and have ended my misery a long time ago.

First thing in the morning a man like me should be allowed to observe a moment of silence.

I struggled in returning to this living world of sane thoughts and logical reasoning. I need to say farewell to my paranoia and insanity. I would be meeting them again shortly when I walk out to perform my daily, dirty duties in the name of proper police work. They would follow me wherever I go and stand by me with whomever I meet. Witnesses, suspects, victims, near and dear ones of those butchered and killed, find themselves in a room, alone with me. But I am never alone. I have my eyes looking into lunacy and discord, imbedded deep within the minds of everyone and this eye of mine see everything distinguishably.

Blinking twice in result of an unwelcomed disturbance makes my ears adjust to my present wakeful state. My ears pick up multiple, loud banging noises on the door of this room I have been forced to share with an 'insect' who has somehow managed to grasp a position into my workplace after successfully infiltrating my place of residence.

But he is careful in his approach and shows proper respect to my superiority and he always stays in constant fear of the influence I have over his budding romantic life.

"Onii-chan! Wake up! You are keeping everybody waiting."

"I'm coming. Give me a sec."

Komachi. My little sister.

She is no longer little anymore and has grown up to become a beautiful woman, who continues to push her dear, delirious onii-chan closer and closer to the breaking point of his sanity, by dating someone unworthy like Taishi Kawasaki, who I had the pleasure of mentally calling by many a demeaning names like 'insect' and 'bug'.

But nowadays I can't call him by those names in this home I have been reluctantly made to share with others, who still feel like strangers before my presence.

My fault.

Not theirs.

I get up from my bed and stand-up to my full height.

Discarding my sleep-wear in favour of something suitable for workplace but acceptable enough to be seated in a table and be allowed to enjoy a breakfast with others in this household is a chore. But those made to live here have an unspoken rule:

"No Pajamas on Breakfast Table."

This edict has been passed unanimously in this domicile after many needless, awkward moments involved with the simple task of eating breakfast among five people, brought together under one roof because of some financial issues and strenuous circumstances which happened quite a few years ago.

My efforts at buttoning and zipping my garments, to appear presentable before people I know and colleagues I don't bother knowing, have once again been intruded by timid taps across wood.

"Onii-chan is everything alright? Do you need any help finding something?"

"None at all. And stop calling me onii-chan"

"Onii-sama then"

"Better. And remember at work you call me Sergeant. Understood?"

"Yeah"

Taishi Kawasaki. A bug.

A caterpillar, who escaped its cocoon and became a butterfly. But I have my doubts. He has more likeness to a moth waiting to be burned by my flames of protection with which I constantly guard Komachi.

By fates cruelty, he has become my roommate at home and my subordinate at work. He has a bit of untapped potential and the makings of a decent police officer. But he is devoid of disillusionment and is afraid to believe in the worse which humanity has to offer. He keeps his hope alive in my sister and wishes to shower her with affection but I have restricted him from pursuing any aggressive course of action by threatening him with many a plausible and realistic consequences.

My efforts help my little sister remain chaste in this corrupt world we have been forced to live in.

I have disguised my intentions and motives beneath a sooty black suit thrown over a dull grey shirt. A pair of charcoal black trousers was easy to find but I am unable to find a pair of clean socks.

My search came to a premature end by enthusiastic little knocks on timber.

"Good morning Haa-chan! I helped Ko-chan and Saa-chan make breakfast today. Everyone says it smells wonderful but I'm waiting to hear you opinion. Hurry! Hurry!"

And then, without waiting to hear me greeting her back, she breezed past down the hallway and I listened to her eager voice basking in compliments from others, already seated at their respective spots.

Keika Kawasaki.

She is the youngest inhabitant of this household and the only other person, besides Komachi, who I cherish, treasure and protect with utmost devotion and dedication, despite her not being related to me by blood. I am deeply honoured, to be trusted and tasked to carry out any 'onii-chan' duties for her and on her behalf.

Apart from Komachi, Keika is the only one who calls me by something closer to my given name. Every time I hear the words 'Haa-chan', my dead fish eyes tries to appear a fraction more living, less scaly and less fishy.

Fully dressed and prepared I appear to be ready.

But I am not. A few finishing touches are left.

My morning medication is taken at a smaller dosage than advised by my therapist. She says I need to take these thrice a day whenever I feel uneasy and experience anxiety. I never trusted her when I was in high school and I am sure not going to trust her now when I am an adult.

I take one.

Mostly before sitting down with people before whom I make an effort to look ordinary and happy, trying to make them believe there is nothing wrong in this city and if there is, everything will turn out alright at the end. I will make sure of it.

In other words, I feed them lies for breakfast.

Other than curry, this is one of my favourite contributions that I bring to the table.

After being medicated I reach below my bed and take out a small safe with a digital lock.

Before I could enter an eight digit code, I was interrupted momentarily by an ominously low voice. Her tone promised righteous violence and more than made up for her unwillingness to knock on this door separating me from everyone.

"Get off ya lazy butt and come out. You're making everyone late for work"

"S-s-orry"

"You better me."

Saki Kawasaki. She is the eldest surviving member of her family like I am to mine.

She keeps everyone fed and watered in this domestic environment and is the only person who can make me stutter and apologize without any apparent reason. We shared some unfortunate misfortunes during the course of our lives and both of us have continued to live and strive for our siblings.

She has proven to me she cares for Komachi and I have shown her that I will look after her remaining family members-even her 'bugging' little brother Taishi.

We all have our crosses to bear…

Remembering the exact date my mother committed suicide, I enter the numbers into the safe and take out my service issued firearm. I have been told having dates for passwords is a mistake but I keep changing them every other week.

People mostly use birthdays but I use dates of those personal events when I lost something to the tragedy that is my life.

Now I am equipped and armed but late.

Hastily I exit my room, fearful of a vicious judgment waiting for me, in the form of a mistaken delinquent who knows karate and is more than willing to break every single one of my bones, to teach me a valuable lesson, in learning to be punctual and arrive in a timely fashion to eat breakfast with others.

I shove a random blue tie down one of my suit pockets and leave to satisfy my hunger for homemade delicacies. I find no humour in walking around while wearing this fashion accessory which can be improvised into an impromptu hangman's noose but unfortunately this is a proper way for a member of a respectful police department to dress, during their hours of carrying out duties of serving and protecting those in need and harm.

What a likely excuse to show-off their wardrobe.

I don't bother nor care.

I would much appreciate wearing my pajamas to work.

At least they would make me comfortable.

/

Arrived at kitchen and sat myself down at this dining table meant for six but currently occupied with only five people. Everyone has been waiting for me quite patiently.

Felt important and guilty for my insensitivity. Tried looking apologetic but came off looking weird and pathetic.

Why do I try?

My plate is already full with rice and other nutritious supplements and I can see a bowl, brimming with miso-soup. I grab a pair of chopsticks and join others in chorus:

"Itadakimasu"

Gobbled food down my gullet and took in every taste, texture and spice. Each morsel I chew and swallow carries a unique characteristic which I have learned to identify and single out.

Kawasaki prepared rice and miso-soup, Komachi made tamagoyaki and Keika helped out a little with natto. As expected I made curry, at the ungodly hour of 3:07, in the morning after regaining conscience from a disturbing nightmare. My sister's boyfriend and Kawasaki's middle sibling, whose cooking skill is on par with Yuigahama bought takeout yesterday to make up for his failings, but I am not impressed.

He burns toast.

Who does that?

From what I can see from this table his contribution today ended up with him chopping up vegetables to make a decent looking salad. But he had to make my life miserable during the course of the most important meal of the day by adding tomatoes into the mix.

I hate tomatoes…

I hate any person who wishes to feed me tomatoes. Ergo:

"I hate Taishi Kawasaki"

/

"Did you say something onii-sama?"

Believe me when I say this, anger and hate can make any cunning man loose his cool and blurt out things that are better off left unsaid. I might have inaudible mumbled my thinly veiled hatred towards Taishi Kawasaki in the form of speech and regrettably this little bug has used his invisible antennas which I call 'dumb luck' to hear what I have said over the table.

"Nothing. Shut up and eat your food."

"Watch it Hikigaya! Don't talk to my brother like that"

"S-s-orry Kawasaki. It came out wrong. What I meant to say was he shouldn't talk while eating. He might choke on his food and die."

"Onii-chan! Don't say stuff like that about Taishi-kun when we are eating."

"Yeah Haa-chan. Taa-chan will be alright. But here have a glass of water, just in case."

"Thanks Keika-chan, Komachi, Nee-san."

He only needed to than Keika-chan for placing a glass within his reach, but he thanks everyone and subtly making me aware that he is grateful that the women of this household protect him from my evil clutches.

Once again this impudent bug has turned himself into a victim and me into a villain. He has perfected this art after practicing for many years and I reluctantly admit he has deeply impressed me by his guile and conceit.

His pretence is quite evident and he takes extra effort to make me aware of it.

He has learned.

/

Impressing me enough, to change my perception of him, in order for me to let him woo my sister is a common enough approach, which sounds needlessly complicated. Everyone does it. During his earlier trials, which happened roughly eight to ten years ago, he went about pretending to be extra pleasant and polite.

Told him to shove it.

Straight in his face.

Saw first glimpse of this bug trying to unwrap from its cocoon.

He has seen things, experienced pain and undergone suffering.

He is not in middle-school anymore, neither in high school nor college. He has grown up and keeping up with a façade of those bygone years is futile before someone like me. I had known him for a while and it makes me want to shoot myself to admit it but beside myself he is the only one Komachi has grown attached to. He shows genuine affection towards my sister and I have made it certain through thorough interrogations, involving him sweating bullets compared to me unloading bullets, in a wall inches away from his hideous face, at a police shooting range.

I would have never shot him.

Intentionally.

And he knew this and called my bluff.

Admitted he was afraid of me, but knew I won't be shedding his blood anytime soon, for if I did Komachi would never forgive me and that would truly lead me to take my own life.

He should have stopped their but he went on and on and whatever he said in that moment of truth holds ground even today. After he said his piece I did the one thing he never expected.

I smiled.

Gave him permission to call me 'onii-sama' and told him to be patient.

Told him I was in control and he was a puppet.

Told him, even though it's highly unlikely, but if someday out of stress, Komachi commits a crime and ends up killing someone, I would tamper with evidence and keep Komachi out of prison while turning him into the culprit.

My exact words were: "You will never be anything to her other than a sacrificial lamb"

His exact reply was: "So be it."

Taishi tried to help me but I was suspended for a week for charging a firearm, destroying police property and causing needless endangerment to a fellow police personnel.

I was not surprised. I went a bit far. But it was a small price.

I hate to admit it but Komachi and Taishi share several similarities like me and Kawasaki and one day, when both of them have healed from these numerous tragedies which have befallen us they might have a future together.

Knowing I had a firm hold on such a prominent character involved with Komachi made me relax my worries, back then. It also helped that Taishi kept his mouth shut and lied about the reason behind my suspension to both Komachi and Kawasaki.

This was his first lesson. But he needed to be made aware of a small distinction.

I encourage lying, omitting facts and saying half-truths only to keep our closed ones safe and establish a defence of plausible deniability in case we ever end up in prison and stand trial where our sisters could be implicated and be alleged of being our co-conspirators.

Highly unlikely but conceivable.

But under no circumstances will I tolerate him cheating on my sister and betraying his sisters feelings by coming up with clever excuses and playing dumb.

He got the message but I ended up choosing the wrong word and I hated myself. I ended up writing my own name in the list I have, of people I won't ever forgive.

Back then my name came up on this list 573 times.

After the mental interruption Taishi constantly subjected me with, his standing on this list surpassed mine and he began competing for the top ten spots.

I planned to murder him many times back then but for my mental tortures only I was to be blamed, for back then Komachi and Taishi had nothing but a friendly relationship.

They were close.

Anyone forced to live in the same house, to mourn and cry, about losing their parents to similar tragedies, at quick successions would seek a shoulder to cry on.

Not of an older brother.

Not of an older sister.

Definitely, not of a little sister.

But of a friend.

I never understood what was wrong about a little sister, crying on his older brother's shoulder, telling him to, to tell her that everything will be alright.

I was good at lying back then and I am better at lying now but unfortunately Komachi sought Taishi.

As a friend.

Nothing more.

Kawasaki faced the same reproach from her younger brother. Felt angry enough to hit him, for ignoring his own sister and seeking comfort in mine. I feared this bug was trying to steal nectar from a flower. But I was mistaken

Romance was killed in tragedy's play.

Eventually Kawasaki was saved by her little sister Keika.

She consoled her, wiped her tears, held her and looked after her like an older sister should. I saw them crying together many a time but I never intruded in their private moment.

Not my place.

Once I tried approaching Komachi, in a not so rather subtle fashion, to shed some light on this discrimination, which I feared was tearing away our bonds of blood and she smiled before explaining in those words which I remember till this day:

"Silly onii-chan. Me, losing my parents means you lost your parents too. We both should be grieving but if I come to you, you will try to act all strong and stiff and won't cry before me, fearing it will only make me feel a lot worse. I am respecting your need to find space and come to terms with what has happened. There is no point living in denial. You will be my top priority onii-chan. Always. But at this moment you don't need your Komachi. You need a friend like I have Taishi. Like you can have with Kawasaki-san"

I watched her grow at that private moment we shared between a brother and a sister.

She has learned a life lesson through pain and I have learned a different lesson through hurt. She will always be my sister and whenever she wants she can have me for an older brother.

But she gets to have her say and I have to listen.

I took her advice through one ear and threw it out the other.

We were all crying.

But only some of us were wiping our eye completely dry.

Tear drops remained fogging our vision.

And then there was me, rubbing my eyes, till they were red and raw.

Turning my dead fish eyes into what they have become today- repulsively reptilian.

I never formed a bond of friendship with Saki Kawasaki. Felt I would be forcing her to leave Keika and Taishi. I was selfish but never would I dream of ruining relations between siblings.

We were the eldest of our families, left behind by our parents, with an unspoken duty to look after our younger siblings at the cost of any price. Our respective lives were put on hold.

As expected of an elder brother and eldest sister.

I am ashamed to admit, I cried very less.

I was a monster of logic.

A genie trapped in a bottle.

A closet masochist.

I sought comfort in nightmares, felling I deserved them and purged myself of a useless ambition:

I would never again dream of becoming a house husband.

/

I left my bygone suffering alone in favour of my present suffering, embodied in the humanoid form of a bug.

Taishi Kawasaki plays a victim and turns me into a villain during breakfast.

Nothing new.

I respect woman and hold them at a high pedestal. I fear them, for they can easily get away with murdering me by calling it a practical joke, taken a bit too far.

I talk from personal experience.

Komachi switches sugar with salt in food items provided to me whenever I make her angry. I know the taste of coffee served with seven tea-spoons of salt after one particular misunderstanding.

Saki Kawasaki is a sadist in this regard.

She once gave me a small serving of one of her favourite dishes with an added five tablespoons of chilli powder. That particular incident provided me with a major breakthrough where I reasoned, that a person of interest was tortured, by being forced to swallow grams of chilli powder and have it blown into their eyes later on.

Keika also joins in on their fun, by having me drink a stupendously hot cup of tea which burned off my cat like sensitive tongue.

I realise by dating Komachi, Taishi holds all the warriors needed to win a war against me.

But he has played with this hand a lot, making me far more capable of changing the tide against him. I lack social and communication skills, but I more than make up for it with clever thinking and manipulation.

I take advantage of this insect's shortcomings and proceed to cut his wings.

"This rice and miso-soup is very tasty. Restaurant quality, really. You have done it again Saki-san"

"T-th-thank you for stating the obvious"

She stutters in her insult and her cheeks turn red. She gets unsettled whenever I engage her in a conversation, where we pretend to me on a first name basis. I often think she will hit me with a karate chop, but here I am, still sitting, unmoving and enjoying breakfast, planning to overthrow Kawasaki Taishi.

Feels good to know I can make her stutter like she does to me.

At least occasionally.

Now I wait for others to join in a domino effect which will lead to Kawasaki Taishi being buried by three terrifying woman. I wait and carefully chew my food. This early in the day not everyone are using their brain at its optimal capacity.

/

While I wait and patiently reduce the amount of food on my plate, I go through a mental count of the number of times I have called Kawasaki Saki by her given name.

Most of the time I got by, without causing unnecessary confusion, by varying my voice and differing my tone and attitude towards those I choose to engage in conversation. I had no problems with the youngest, for I was comfortable calling her Keika-chan upon her own insistence.

A Small reprieve.

My main difficulty was with Kawasaki Taishi and Kawasaki Saki.

Argued against using their first names straight up when it was finalised we had no choice but to move in and live together. Taishi and Komachi were friends from their middle school days and had no difficulty using their first names on a daily basis.

I and Saki studied in Sobu High.

I was forced to join the service club by Hiratsuka sensei and Saki availed the services provided by that ill fated club a few times. She was brought to my attention indirectly at first. Komachi introduced Taishi, who in turn was seeking our club to help his older sister, who by then, I didn't know was in fact Kawasaki Saki, who had earlier, on that very same day, given be a glimpse of what she preferred to wear underneath her skirt. I helped Saki and satisfied with what I did and how I did it she became an irregular client of our club.

But after high school I never thought of her again and neither did I see her nor did she wish to see me.

Our siblings kept touch but that was it.

Thus it was understandable for us not wanting to be on a first name basis. Saki was flustered and I came up with an easy solution. Now that I think about it, what is said wasn't the brightest thing to say to an overprotective older sister who fawned over her fully grown brother and still saw him like a kid.

My exact words were: "How about I call you brother 'a bug'?"

She let her actions do the talking and I found myself thrown across the room, nursing a bruised shoulder and barely escaping with my life from the clutches of a well known bro-con.

After I was certain of my safety I addressed this issue once again.

It was a well known fact that my self esteem was very low. Only a few people called me by my name in a proper fashion. 'Hikki', 'Hikio', 'Hikitani' came to mind but Saki decided to go original. When I brooded she called me 'emo' and when I decide to laze about she called me 'bum'.

I responded more to people resorting to name calling than someone calling me by name.

/

"Wait a minute you creep! How did you know I made rice and miso-soup? Do you spy on me when I cook?"

Speaking of calling me names, Kawasaki Saki pushes the first domino.

"Not at all Saki-san. I just know what your food tastes like."

She is getting really red.

"W-wh-why do you keep calling me by my first name. I thought you didn't like getting all touchy-feely, you Hachiman."

As expected she goes with the eye for an eye approach.

Using my given name like an insult doesn't make it one, no matter how you say it.

She must have learned of this one from Komachi.

Regardless, she has given me a perfect opportunity to examine where the dominos are headed to fall. I test these troubled waters and undertake a small risk

"Sorry Kawasaki-san. But I wanted to make it absolutely clear that I'm complementing Kawasaki Saki and not Kawasaki Taishi. You are a culinary genius. Your brother, not so much."

I wanted to say her brother couldn't cook to save his own skin but I stopped myself at the last moment, thinking I was better off not taking any more unnecessary chances.

In anxiety I bring my chopsticks to my mouth only to finds no morsel trapped between their woody confines. I am messing around with the wrong woman here, in trying to make her criticize a brother, whom she would forgive even if confessed to being a mass murderer.

"I will let this one pass. Taishi, I hate to say this but you need to learn some basic recipes. I will teach you myself and you can ask Keika-chan for help."

I have done the impossible and changed the course of human history.

I fear Armageddon from the outbreak of World War III, cloudy weather with a chance of rice balls and reports of flying pigs disturbing air traffic control today when I head out for work.

What a small price to pay for such delight.

"I don't want to worry you Nee-san. Komachi can teach me."

Instead of giving up, surrendering and worshiping my greatness, this bug is trying to work on a different angle to turn his curse into a blessing.

Close but not.

"Your nee-san cooks better than Kom-"

.I cut myself off before I could express my thoughts in those particular words.

Kawasaki Taishi smiles.

I groan.

Running my exact words, once again, in my mind, taking in surrounding context and present company I shudder fully grasping my extent of betrayal.

"What a rude thing to say gomi-chan. Are you trying to make your dear little Komachi cry?"

"Of course not. I know what everyone's food tastes like, except you boyfr…except Taishi's. I love your tamagoyaki."

I manage to placate Komachi but Keika-chan starts tearing up.

"Eh! Haa-chan what about me? Don't you like my food?"

"How can I not like it Keika-chan. Your natto is perfect."

"You are just saying random things onii-chan. Are you trying to insult all the hard work we put into making these dishes by throwing around clichéd compliments? Do you think we are stupid?"

Komachi you are not helping your onii-chan. Not one bit. But I understand your hurt feelings.

When I was undergoing training, I was told that my weapon of choice needs to be an extension of myself for them to be truly efficient on the field.

Same principle applies to cooking.

Food is a projection, an extension of those toiling in the kitchen, trying to nourish, nurture and feed, those who leave them behind with a promise to return after a gruelling day of work. This becomes a sensitive issue, especially for those who cook at home, then take off their aprons and head out to their respective places of work and business without getting any form of proper gratitude on a frequent basis.

Like these three seething women.

Food is a powerful weapon.

A bad case of food-poisoning can be deadly, but it lacks any form of elegance and could be argued to be nothing more than a coincidence. Neither do grinding poisonous capsules nor sprinkling venomous fluids into continental and western delicacies, to throw off suspicion, sound interesting and original.

According to an old proverb, the quickest way to a man's heart is through their stomach and here it doesn't mean cutting someone open in half, straight down from their fattened heart to their obese belly. Just making it abundantly clear. I had to investigate a neurotic chef once who took this proverb quite literally and I ended up working for a whole month on a dismemberment case, which felt like some sick scavenger hunt to find jaggedly cut body parts of various food critics.

A disturbing I don't wish to repeat.

But I digress and come back explaining how food could be treated like a weapon.

Cooking can manipulate a hungry heart and false affection can be planted in a packed stomach. However that which is made can be unmade and then remade in someone else's image.

Confusing but true.

A lot of heart goes into making homemade food and reluctantly, many a heartstrings find themselves attached to those who are made to eat such domestic cooking. These strings are like those of a musical instrument which can be played to hypnotize an audience and put them under a spell, containing nothing but praise and admiration.

Only a rotten person like me knows how to play this stringed instrument and I have written many a symphony to siphon off other people and their influences from my target audience.

Taishi can do nothing but watch and marvel.

I begin on a high note.

"Komachi think of a dying man-"

"-no thanks onii-chan"

"-like I was saying Komachi, think of a dying man, he is lying on his death bed and all the doctors have given up on him. He has maybe an hour to live at most. Faced with his death, he requests for a last meal. Nobody wants to die on an empty stomach. What you cook my dear sister is good enough to be his last meal Komachi. Now he can die peacefully.

Now, now, Keika-chan don't you worry. This man goes upto heaven and there he enjoys a feast made for the God's. This natto you made is fit to be a main course in a banquet held on paradise. The man must be having a treat enjoying such good food on his first day in heaven"

I take a breath and reach for a glass of cold water.

Talking will never be my forte.

"But what about Saa-chan? Her cooking is good too."

But I already complimented her by saying her food is restaurant quality.

However I know that if I mention this, everything will backfire and we will be back to where it all started once again.

Can't have that.

"I'm coming to your Saa-chan in a bit. Wait for it. So where was I? Ah yes! Man goes to heaven, spends some quality time there, but like everything his happiness ends and he is reincarnated and sent back to earth. But don't feel sorry for him. He gets to live in Chiba again. That can't be all bad. Anyway, to celebrate his return back to the land of the living, he decides to eat at a high class restaurant."

"And Saa-chan welcomes him with her tasty food. And he lives happily ever after. Right Haa-chan."

"Absolutely."

"Nice story onii-chan. What do you think Kawasaki onee-san?"

"It's alright for someone like him"

I have satisfied all three of them by some random story. What an incredible feat. I shall remember this day. As expected my curry gets no compliment but I am satisfied watching it vanish from their respective plates.

"Um onii-sama I have a question?"

I look at Kawasaki Taishi. For a moment I had forgotten he was here. No wonder I was enjoying myself a little.

"What question?"

"How did the man died?"

How nice of you to step on a land mine.

"He was the first person brave enough to eat Kawasaki Taishi's cooking."

All dominos have fallen and what greets my ear is loud laughter rising in a chorus. Komachi is grasping her chest and tears are glistening in her eyes from laughing in such an unwomanly fashion. Keika-chan is bouncing around in her chair clutching her stomach with one hand and banging the table with her other one.

Even Kawasaki Saki is not spared from this hilarious moment. She is civil but her eyes are dancing with mirth and she is smiling brightly unable to hide her emotions. Her shoulders are shaking from trying to suppress, this fine funny moment but her body is betraying her.

We only have a few moments like these and it is good for morale.

"It's not that funny!"

"What are you saying Taishi-kun. It's the best joke I ever heard from my onii-chan."

"Komachi-chan you're hurting your boyfriend's feelings, you know?"

There goes his girlfriend.

"Ko-chan is right. Taa-chan can kill someone with his cooking."

"You too Keika-chan. I never thought you would be this cruel"

Their goes his little sister.

"Ignore them Taishi and sorry for laughing at ya. But this creep outdid himself. I love ya little brother but I won't be eating your cooking anytime soon unless you improve yourself. Sorry"

"Not you too nee-san. You were my last hope."

And their goes his older sister.

Kawasaki Taishi is defeated and left completely alone in the battle field. I have taken away his top three warriors.

Now he has to face me alone.

He knows that I know that he knows he doesn't have a chance of winning this.

Confusing way to phrase things but let's see how he kills himself.

"Onii-sama you haven't touched your salad"

Dirty trick

Thought I had it.

Game. Set. Match.

…damn.

Wrong phraseology.

Getting uncomfortable, having trouble breathing, symptoms of a panic attack are cropping up. Need to settle down, need to stop glancing at the empty seat on this table seldom occupied by my only friend from high school whenever he returns to Chiba.

He won't be sitting there again.

Need to punish myself, allow pain to take over my brain.

Dropped chopsticks and popped toxic tomato into my mouth using fingers. Unable to chew, poison is potent, face getting scrunched up. Swallowed my haggard features down my throat with a glass of cold water. Drank till glass was empty then slammed it down on table.

"Onii-chan are you alright?"

They don't know.

Can't let them know.

Judging by these various dishes they prepared for breakfast, which I am no longer enjoying right now, their buoyant manners, their tendency to laugh at my attempts in humour, Taishi hasn't spilled the beans.

Yet.

I would like to keep it that way.

Us failed brothers have a golden rule, to keep this place we live in and call a home cleansed from the muck and mire we wander into when we head outside.

We never discuss business at home.

I stopped Taishi from talking about it even with me.

At home, we work alone on separate case files, never bothering with the other. If he needs my help, he knows where my desk is at the police headquarters. He can consult with me there, but never here.

I lost to my thoughts because of this morning banter. The dominos I planned to topple upon Taishi tumbled over me. I am repeating myself, rambling and rambling. My walls of sanity show cracks. I see barbed wire, cutting myself when I try to climb into this prison sanatorium, constructed deep within a maze of my brain. After breaking into this mad house, I escape with two convicts who have been serving a life sentence. These two best friends of mine, who call themselves paranoia and fear, rejoice when they reunite with me. I promised I would meet them again during our scheduled visiting hours, earlier this morning when I woke up from sleep, but I couldn't wait so long.

I lost a good friend.

Arguably, my only friend.

And now I rekindle my friendship with these two mad-dogs of insanity.

/

"Onii-sama have some of my salad."

This bug is trying to think for himself. He can't. He has spotted my discomfort. Everyone on this table has. I should pop another pill in my mouth but I can't. I promised myself they wouldn't see me taking medication. They know I suffer, they know I see a therapist, and they know I take pills prescribed by said therapist but seeing me take them before their own eyes can be unsettling.

They can see I am damaged, but they can never see my scar tissues.

I won't let them.

I have destroyed the previous harmony frolicking over our breakfast table and I keep looking at that unoccupied chair using my peripheral vision.

I am making everyone unsettled.

I'm sorry.

If I hadn't participated in this morning banter we would still be enjoying breakfast. I would be silent, making a comment now and then, but mostly listening, to others informing me about their present worries and source of happiness.

I have tainted them all.

My eyes can see everything unfold but can do nothing.

All this banter, this back and forth, like a sick game played in my mind, a sick game of tennis…

…Stab my tongue! Stab it! Stab it!

I break my chopsticks in half.

Instantly my plate is lobbed with a large dropping of salad.

I hear gasps and shrieks from the women on the table.

"Sorry onii-sama. I'm so sorry."

Bug is trying to replicate my art of committing social suicide.

He should know I alone have perfected this sacrificial ritual and have patented it with a non-existent ego and low self respect.

But I humour him.

"You should be."

I say nothing more.

This is not a voice I use at home.

I watch Kawasaki Saki hesitating to say something. She opens her mouth but Kawasaki Taishi stops her with a shake of his head. I push myself away from these people forced to live with me. Once again I relapse into addressing everyone with their official title. This is how things are meant to be.

Looking at this green leafy heap and identifying red rings of distaste, I carefully begin to disinfect my plate from this sad excuse of a salad.

I take them apart page by page but I don't remember opening my mental journal. This is bad. Entries like this are futile. I will record them and then tear off the pages. These notes will not be a part of my psyche. I won't let them be kept there in luxury, by having them locked up in the library of my sanatorium. My entries are beginning to disturb me like this present one right:

"Predicted my future.

I will be wasting roughly four minutes and thirty seconds on removing this grotesque piece of inedible garbage.

Detestable food item.

Bleeds red when chopped and stabbed. These rings look like a noose calling me to hang myself but I'm not tempted. Hanging is messy and painful. I have a gun. It will be quick. But not now. I wait, dissecting and removing these blotches of red from my state of mental imbalance.

Detestable food item.

Most think they are vegetables. Few know these are actually fruits. Misunderstood. Sad attempt by society to misinform and keep common people out of the loop, for they know we trust blindly, accept thinks at face value and can be made to eat up things we truly can't comprehend.

Detestable food item.

Called my many names-pseudonyms and aliases. Pronounced differently. Some say 'to-may-to' while others say 'to-mah-to' but is always written as 'tomato'. Shows propensity to hide in plain sight, mix with green and is constantly under suspicion for acting, changing names and identities."

Detestable food item.

Smells funny.

Has a criminal record. I can remember five different crimes committed by this convicted felon. Originally from Peru. Made people afraid by simply being related to belladonna, an infamous poisonous killer, who was active since ancient times. Ran off to Europe to escape arrest in mid 1500's and later in the 1890s was a co-conspirator in tax fraud committed in US soil by parading around and telling everyone, it's a vegetable instead of a fruit. Governments around the world planned to build a prison for this dangerous criminal in outer-space but studies have revealed their seedlings can grow even in the vacuum of space. At present, this dangerous criminal runs an entire mob family of roughly 10000 family members. They have smaller gangs, causing chaos with their horrible fashion sense, who dress-up in hideous outfits including pink, purple, black, yellow and white. My efforts at knowing my enemy bore fruit and one day this criminal would be brought to justice for cheating on my welfare.

Till then I can wait and remove it from my plate.

Soon I will be heading out. Behind this locked door which exits into the outside world, away from the sanctuary provided by this safe house. Outside, a beautiful city squeals in morning delight-Chiba. When I head out, I will change into my avatar and fool those retards. I will hide my perverse stench and lack of a conscience behind a tailored suit.

I shall exercise my duties to their fullest intent.

Currently I need to hurry

Swallow my food without chewing properly and refraining from losing myself in their heavenly taste.

I ignore how others are looking at me in this table.

I ignore the empty seat.

Here on this table, two failed brothers devoured their breakfast.

Our sisters are demeaned by society behind our backs and are called

Christmas cake and New Years Noodle

We ate silently these,

Detestable food item.

/

A/N: Thanks everyone for reviewing, following and adding this to your favourites. Hope you enjoyed reading this new chapter. All that happens take place in the oregairu world and will continue to happen there. Characters of watchmen, even beloved Rorschach won't be making an appearance. Only characters involved with Oregairu will contribute to this story. I was heavily influenced by Rorschach's journal and I want to repeat this over and over again in case anyone missed some obvious references from this chapter.

That bit about tomatoes is from google, which I wrote by taking some creative liberties and twisting them into something 8man will say. On a side note. I hate tomatoes myself.

Will update soon.

Please review.

Also,

Should I be making my chapters this big?

Should I be writing author's note at the top or the bottom.

Please let me know.

Till then:

P.S: Those who know what the next entry in this journal will be should know in next chapter key names will be dropped.

Here's to betraying your dreams


	3. All Players Appear on Stage

Chapter 3: All Players Appear On Stage

Don't own Oregairu or Watchmen.

Warning: Reliving tragic past with many a disturbing events and character deaths.

8man's Journal, October 14, 2035

Grey skies meet a hoary horizon and form a dreary skyline in this cemented city.

Overcast conditions and weather forecasts predict chances in favour of experiencing heavy rains and mild storms. Citizens of Chiba worry. Water would wash away their carefully applied makeup and cosmetic enhancements leading to others seeing their true face. Society of today is ashamed and terrified of anyone seeing their true face and they pray for clouds to clear and sun to shine, forever bright, to help them hide in broad day light.

Wrong prayers are answered these days.

Words of prayer haven't graced these lips of mine for decades. Praying and grovelling are for people who have expectations of a future where they can be happy and content. Something I will never be.

There is no one like me, condemned to waste away their existence and fade away like a withering piece of wallpaper from an abandoned apartment, waiting to be demolished by those builders of a new era where asking to live by my individual ideals is asking too much.

Never ask.

Walk away.

Walk on foot till they bleed and then start crawling. Continue crawling forward and tell yourself this is not a form of escape. When faced with loss and remorse tell a lie and tell it truthfully and one day you will wake up and believe you are not a coward.

You are only living in denial.

Story of my life.

My biography will be written someday by a famous psychiatrist and it would be a popular case study for students of psychology who wish to uncover what runs a broken mind. They will not get answers. Trying to hide their failures, they will forge documents and give false reports saying my brain was stolen from their lab by some mad scientist seeking to recreate a monster of logic. Authorities will believe their stories and would seize their efforts immediately. My brain will be in a mason jar full of chemical preservatives, beneath a loose floorboard and will be taken out only when some ambitiously foolish professor tries a dubious experiment, seeking misplaced fame and cursed fortune in hopes of unravelling my secrets and lies centuries later.

For now by brain belongs to me and is a slave of my will and choice.

/

Exiting police headquarters proved tediously easy. Made a small cameo appearance, allowed everyone to observe my state of being, made every person wary about my psychological condition and stopped everybody from spreading false rumours about my supposedly horrible demise. Was welcomed with claps and hurrahs by each and every police personnel inside head office who got a chance to see me and felt glad at their shrewd appreciation towards the devil they know in favour of the devil they didn't but had the misfortune of knowing due to my absence.

Removing my replacement and his assistant from my desk was quite enjoyable and watching them leave without having any say in this matter did wonders for my mood. Both of them are despicable and exploitive people but now they can return to their own police precinct and allow me to pick up where everything was left off.

Three days. Three ingloriously long days have passed.

My friend is dead and top management has specifically asked me to conduct a thorough investigation and cover all bases. Whole country is shocked and Chiba is in mourning. My friend was an icon, a role model for this generation and his death has sparked a flame in numerous hearts and souls of people across the globe. As for me, I have difficulty saying his name and I grieve by not grieving at all.

I do what I can and what I can do is investigate.

Officially my suspension was lifted today. Unofficially I never left my office. My stench has poisoned every corner. Each piece of furniture and every piece of equipment at my desk has my fingerprints. My territory is marked by self-loathing and self-hatred. Those are hard to replace and duplicate.

I have no other.

My superiors have their hands tied.

A monster of logic can be hard to control and put on a leash.

Conforming to standards of society, changing my nature and improving my methods are requests seldom fulfilled. But they have an understanding of my function and role. Unpredictability can be predicted by trial and error but a person of a volatile nature can only be reined in by hitting close to home.

Offering Taishi Kawasaki a chance to look into the death of my only friend was equivalent to having me wear a dog's collar around my neck. He had been keeping me informed about the going-ons in the workplace during my suspension and this relation of ours was exploited. Upon confronting, all cards was found lain on the table and I received full authority to function and conduct myself without any hindrance from politics and bureaucracy.

Felt pleased and decide to leave no stone unturned.

Old cases, cold cases, closed cases, everything within reason and having any significance to this current ongoing investigation was made available to me without asking any unnecessary questions. Felt necessary to handle everything personally and allowed nobody else to get a ticket of my train of thought. Turned Taishi Kawasaki into a glorified gofer and told him to run embarrassing errands. Made him follow social media, websites, fan-sites, blogs, every thought bubble and every soap box displayed under public domain and disregarded his whining about turning him into a stalker and cyber criminal. He was exaggerating of course. A cyber criminal should know some basic hacking skills. He didn't. Unfortunate really, leading me to try other avenues of an orthodox nature. Collected newspaper clippings, read sports magazine and listened to recording of past interviews. Made appointments with many people and was forced to keep them. People from my past, those who have drifted away towards a better life and a foreseeable prosperous future had to face me once again. Saw their eyes, took in their features and heard their thoughts over this present predicament. Questioned a butterfly effect caused by one man, his unfortunate death and the significance of everything taking place at this contemporary city of ours. Listened to their sighs, watched them look at me with pity and heard them whisper inaudibly things better left unsaid.

Exhausted all leads and gave into inevitability. Prepared to commit myself and take upon a deadening journey into a stronghold of sham and charade called Falcon Facilities.

Decided against riding a motorcycle. Long journey. Need to prepare mentally. Hence my decision to turn a gofer into a chauffeur was completely justified.

/

Stood outside main entrance of headquarters and waited for my ride. People noticed me but paid no heed. Felt better. Weapons should be concealed. Daggers have sheaths. Guns have holsters.

My dead fish eyes have shades. Simple sunglasses hide this arsenal of mine, for having them on display all the time would lessen their effect. Without my eyes I'm a blind to corruption and compromise but with them I only see debauchery and decay. Spotting a decrepit, nondescript, unmarked vehicle, commonly used for stakeout purposes was unremarkably easy and when this means of transport stopped before my presence and the driver came out with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an appraisal, my mouth opened and formed a simple sentence.

"You're late."

"Sorry onii-sama. Had to sign out proper official forms before taking this vehicle out of impound. Thought this would take only a few minutes but sadly those officers are really picky about releasing cars for some reason. Wonder why?"

"Young officers often try to take out one of these unmarked vehicles to impress their dates. Lead to a lot of hassle one day and police policies had to be made rigid, limiting using these cars for only police purposes and not personal ones. You want to blame someone then blame those people who found love and have a girlfriend."

"You mean like me and Komachi?"

"Don't put words in my mouth! Komachi has nothing to do with this. You take her out on a motorcycle like I took her to school on my bicycle. Only difference is you are her boyfr… her boyfrie… her friend who is a boy and I am her onii-chan."

"Onii-sama you are grossing me out! Let's not try comparing our levels of love for Komachi and just be happy with knowing we both love her very much but very differently. Ok?"

"No! Not okay. I love her more. Try remembering this Officer Kawasaki."

Ultimate weapon. Pull rank.

"Eh? Onii-sama, I made detective three years ago. Did you forget? You stopped calling me oblivious officer and started calling me defective detective when I rose up in rank."

Ultimate weapon not living upto its name for this insect turned out to be an uncategorised cockroach. No matter. This rotten person outranks you for today, tomorrow and hopefully many years into the future.

"Good for you but are you a sergeant?"

"…No. You are."

"Better remember that you defective detective."

"Of course onii… I mean Sergeant Hikigaya"

Taishi Kawasaki returned to his place in this unmarked motor vehicle issued by police authorities. He placed his dominant hand on the steering wheel and with his other one unlocked the door of the passenger seat beside the driver.

This was his invitation to let me join him at front.

Declined this generous offer of his out of personal wellbeing and opened the backdoor to plop down on a backseat all by my lonesome. Felt comfortable having this entire place for myself.

"Eh? Onii-sama, you are sitting in the back?"

Seems silence was not a part of my comfort package.

"Yes I am. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought we would be sitting together like partners working a case."

"Then you thought wrong detective."

He suffers silently but pays no heed to my lack of social and communication skills. He drives carefully, his eyes never leaving the broad streets and his hands never leave the wheel. He has accepted my refusal to sit beside him without any further protest. He never asked for a reason knowing I have none.

But regardless, felt myself digging up a random reason.

"I have a lot of things on my mind detective. You know what this case means to me right?"

"Yes I do Sergeant."

Saw a glimpse of sadness splinter this young man. His voice was morose and his eyes were heavy. He decided to participate in a silence spreading inside this automobile and felt satisfied in taking the car out of the narrow lanes and into the streets of Chiba. Only the sound of an outdated engine purred across our strained association.

Decided to elevate awkwardness from this confined space by providing padding upon previous random reason through holding up a prop. Cleared throat to gather attention and as expected my driver looked back over his shoulder.

"What's this? A book?"

"How observant of you. Mind keeping your eyes glued on the road. Your onii-sama has no interest of dying in a car crash because you got distracted by a piece of twentieth century literature."

"Ah! No worries. Wait a sec! You called yourself my onii-sama. Does this mean we no longer have to act all official and address each other all formally and such?"

"Afraid so. We can stick to doing all those fun stuffs back when we are at the office or when we are working a crime scene."

"Only onii-sama would call something like that fun. But you won't hear me complain. I will be a good partner."

Never said anything about partners. Only Taishi Kawasaki would believe such make-believe. We have different ranks, we perform separate duties, he dates my sister and I let him. He wants to be my partner but my fears make me hesitant.

He has a future with Komachi and my days of living in denial of their flourishing relationship have almost come to an end. He makes Komachi happy, treats her like a princess and listens to her bawl out in sadness and howl out in laughter with equal attention.

Most importantly Komachi loves him.

Only my reluctance to give them permission has stopped them from getting married. My efforts to thwart their relationship by testing their strengths and weaknesses by removing physical intimacy of a sexual nature have revealed their love to be genuine and pure.

I am glad.

I worry.

Taishi Kawasaki has become a part of my workforce. He functions under my supervision and he is obligated to follow my orders like toy soldiers. He does good detective work and there lies my problem.

One day he will see things. Terrible things.

One day he will be forced to do things. Terrible things.

And then he will find friendship among nightmares.

Like me.

I will not allow it. He deserves better. He has his own sisters and my sisters waiting for him at home, praying he will return safe and sound both in mind and body. On a fundamental level they hold me responsible to look after him. They have never told me directly but the look in their eyes makes everything evident.

They have lost me.

Now they fear losing him.

I will not promise anything.

My taint may affect Taishi Kawasaki but he will never become me. My existence is based on limiting my stench to only myself. He will never become jaded and turned into a monster of logic like me, for he has hope.

He hopes of winning me over and marrying my sister. He trusts in having his elder sister married into a respectable family. He wishes his youngest sister to find true love. Lastly he expects me to look after my wellbeing.

Taishi Kawasaki is a nice man.

He will not be me.

"What's this book about?"

Case in point, he should be paying attention to where we are headed. Instead he now finds his interest in my choice of literature intriguing. He has seen me countless times engrossed in a book and indulging in one of my old habits of reading in silence but he finds himself curious, making me annoyed.

"A dystopian future"

"Oh? What's the title?"

"1984."

"Eh? Onii-sama did you make a joke? You said this book was about a dystopian future but it's called 1984. Shouldn't this book be about a dystopian past?"

"No such thing. Only our future can be unpleasantly dehumanised. Our past was just pleasantly ignorant. Caveman carried clubs, highschoolers made clubs and college-goers went clubbing. Same difference, really. They thought they had worries but we know they clearly didn't. Nowadays everyone is rightly worried. In 2035, reading a book published in 1949, titled 1984, seems almost impossible because of a dreadful driver needing long explanations."

Taishi Kawasaki was better at maths. Everyone was better at this useless subject except me. But he was finding trouble making sense of those years which was just mentioned during our pointless conversation. He did the sensible thing, nodded his head at my reflection in the rear view mirror and gave me a bright smile.

"Sorry onii-sama. I didn't understand a thing you said but you can read if you want. I won't disturb you. I can drive silently, I promise."

"Thank you"

"No problem partner."

Made no comment and chose to refrain from shooting him, for he is driving and any violent action on my part might lead to an awful accident. Told myself this was a small price to pay for a long period of silence. This book has served a better purpose than anyone would think possible. This piece of literature has stopped Taishi Kawasaki from talking any further.

George Orwell I give you my thanks.

Pretended to read and remembered to occasionally turn pages.

/

Taishi Kawasaki is a man of his word. This silence we are currently sharing is comfortable and enjoyable. He is happy driving me across Chiba and then leaving me in a hostile territory. Of course, hostility can be ascertained through a form of perception most men lack. Came to grips with these underhanded undertones back in middle school and those painful lessons taught me my current way of life.

Women are great teachers.

Orimoto was a good teacher but she lost my respect in favour of others. She became normal in an abnormal world, settled down, got married and had kids. Should really stop calling her Orimoto now, her husband might have a problem. Tamanawa spews complex words and writes sonnets proclaiming his love for her wife on a daily basis. Heard from Taishi, he agreed to be my replacement only if Orimoto could be his assistant.

Ah. True love.

Wonder how he became a policeman of my rank without having any big accomplishments under his belt. He congratulates his wife and holds her responsible for helping him climb up his career ladder. Only I believe he is not exaggerating her contributions.

She made him what he is today- A family man.

Having a family, a happy married life is a good dream.

The Yukinoshita family had this dream for their daughter.

Younger Yukinoshita married her childhood friend. After finishing high school, they went abroad, like they did back in elementary school and finished college. They became accomplished individuals in their respective fields and returned back home to be engaged. Their relationship survived and thrived despite countless delays, before these two could join together, forever in holy matrimony. Their marriage joined two prosperous families into an unbreakable bond which promised a great future for Chiba. These two childhood friends, now husband and wife are commonly called the first couple of Chiba.

They say behind every successful man there is a woman. But they never say anything about what is behind a successful woman. We never think to think. Men thought women could never succeed. But they forgot one thing.

Ladies love to prove us wrong.

For some women, marriage is just another task left on their bucket list. A safety net provided by society, by this patriarchal world, where women are expected to fall from walking on a tightrope. A safe option to consider when nothing can be accomplished by limited opportunities and a clicking biological clock.

Orimoto and Yukinoshita are good wives to great husbands. These married women are my great teachers but those who remain unmarried became my life coaches. Arguing about who is better is futile. Coaches and teachers have different roles. A teacher teaches us valuable life lessons but a coach trains us to play the game of life. We choose and decide like they did with their life.

Older Yukinoshita decided to strike out on her own. She had fulfilled her duties to her family and younger sister and after having this heavy burden lifted off of her shoulders she decided to pay attention to her wants and needs. Finished her studies and became a medical professional-a therapist. She helps people find peace in this chaotic world and helps them recuperate from tragedy and trauma. She owns a boutique, part of an old childhood hobby and gives her patients a lovely flower after each therapy session. She has no plans of currently getting married.

Unlike her, Yuigahama might have had plans. But she chose friendship over marriage. Yukinoshita wanted somebody she could completely trust and put her faith in when she took over her family company and various business enterprises. She had to look no further, for her high school club mate saved her. Yuigahama, her best friend, became her head of PR and analysts would argue she was singlehandedly responsible for helping her win those elections she fought after she got married.

Fighting elections is a dirty business. A woman, a married woman could be an easy target. Her husband was a man of science and amidst various scientific breakthroughs which created a lot of controversies around worldwide media. Her husband immediately recognised his fault and decided to take appropriate steps to protect her wife from a smear campaign by bringing in a high-school friend, Miura Yumiko. She was a lawyer, a great white shark, a force of nature. She was aggressive in her approach and ruthless in her conduct. She sued everyone for defamation, slander and liable. Cut deals, won cases and made plenty in damages. She stayed and waited for the smoke to clear and another battle to commence.

She stood by Hayama and her wife.

Hayama could credit his success and prosperity to his wife and high school friends like Yuigahama and Miura. They would never acknowledge his praise out of modesty and humbleness but then there was one who stole all our credit and accomplishments simply because she was our homeroom teacher back in high school.

Hiratsuka sensei holds a position of esteem in our educational system. She put Sobu High on a global map and in many of her interviews and magazine articles, she often self proclaimed her motivation and guidance counselling led to her students becoming eminent individual in their adult life. Entrepreneurs, lawyers, sportsmen and lawmen all are her creations. Zaimokuza was not a part of her homeroom but his light novels are said to carry, at least one character based on her attitude and mannerisms. She says it's a beautiful way for a former student to pay tribute to a teacher.

Now the honour is mine.

Let a devil collect his due.

/

Momentarily stopped and took notice of pages. One third of this hard-paper back volume was complete but nothing was registered in my mind. Lost in happy thoughts and paid little attention to a fictional society in favour of my non-fictional one. Everything is irrelevant. Shared similarities, divided differences and rational relationships all add up to nothing.

Reading 1984 in 2035 makes complete sense.

Looked outside and saw landscape seize from moving backwards. Steady de-acceleration caused wheels to arrest their movement altogether and this unmarked vehicle, taken out for police business, came to a halt on a street crossing. Watched a traffic light, function properly and display proper insignia suitable to provide safe passage.

Hence, trouble lies with my driver and I had to hold him accountable for his inaction.

"Problem?"

"Nothing onii-sama. Just wanted your opinion on something. Have you finished your book?"

"No. I haven't."

"Oh! Can I ask anyway?"

"Sure. But make it quick. We are out here on official police business. Not out for a morning drive."

"You got it onii-sama!"

Taishi Kawasaki kept his hand firmly placed on the steering wheel and kept looking back at me in the rear view mirror. He was coming up with proper words to address an issue and was thinking really hard. Without trying, I could gears and levers turning in his brain, telling him what could go wrong and what could go woefully wrong. His miserable mindset could be brought before my presence regarding only one person.

"You want to talk about Komachi?"

Heard a snap from his neck and hoped his head won't swivel off his shoulder from shock.

"How do you do it onii-sama! You are right every time!"

"Trade secret. You think I made sergeant because of my good looks?"

"Um…"

"Rhetorical question. Now back to Komachi. What do you want with her? You are already dating her and she has made no move to dump you and find someone else. You should have nothing to complain about my sister."

"I'm not complaining. Komachi is a nice, sweet and tender-"

"What's wrong with you! Don't say those things about my sister! Tender! Tender! What do you mean by tender? Are you? Are you and her? I swear-"

"Calm down onii-sama! I just wanted to know whether Komachi loves modern art."

"-no one will find your corpse…what did you say?"

Taishi Kawasaki took a deep breath.

"What does Komachi think about modern art?"

Good question. She likes to draw but modern art. No idea.

"Why do you want to know?"

He pointed at a random building across the street. Fancy place.

"I was thinking of taking her there."

"And what is there?"

"An art gallery. Heard they will be having their opening gala pretty soon and thought this would be a wonderful place to take out Komachi on a date. What do you think? Will she like it?"

This bug has gone bonkers.

Taishi Kawasaki is asking me, Hikigaya Hachiman, to be a part of a conspiracy that will help him be successful on a date with my sister, Komachi Hikigaya. He cannot be sober. Should have him take an exam and if found guilty, I will arrest him personally for drunk driving.

Good plan.

"You have a breathalyser?"

"…No"

Bad execution. Pity.

Change strategy

"What's wrong with taking her out to the movies and having dinner in some fancy restaurant?"

Simplicity is a perfection seldom undone. Of course a bug would have no grasp of this concept of perfection.

"We have been to a lot of movies, plenty of cafés and many a restaurants. This time around I want to take her somewhere special. Help me a little onii-sama! I want to make this special for Komachi."

His words bore meaning and sunk deep into my psyche. Found unnerved at what dawned into my realisation and immediately took a moment of silence. Ran everything through my mind and double-checked.

Found nothing close to having a different meaning and a different explanation for these abrupt pieces of words, blurted out together, in a pleading voice to an older brother of a girl he loves and wishes to love forever.

Taishi Kawasaki wants to make this special for Komachi.

Everyman does.

Everyman except me.

Out of old habit decided to poke fun at his blunder. Humour would help me guarantee my certainty.

"Special you say. Are you planning on making yourself the happiest of men?"

"How did you-? No! I don't want to know! Onii-sama please! Please! I beg you. Don't tell Komachi."

Saw him panicking. But for once, found no enjoyment in watching him suffer.

Might mean I am happy for him.

…For them.

Happiness can be contagious. My lips curved upwards and formed a small smile, devoid of insincere irony and shallow sarcasm

"This is your secret to tell Kawasaki Taishi."

He sighed in relief, turned back to face the road in front of him and our long drive continued.

/

Death brings us close.

Taishi Kawasaki has decided to take a step forward in his successfully stagnant relationship. Both he and my sister are happy. But they are not getting any younger. I am warming up to their relationship and hopefully before polar icecaps, I would melt into a gooey puddle when they exchange their vows.

Komachi would look great in white. I would walk her down the aisle.

…and hand her over to Taishi Kawasaki.

…My sister will no longer be a Hikigaya.

She will no longer have me.

But she will be happy.

Her happiness is brought upon by death.

My friend, the one who died, the one whose name I cannot say, made Taishi Kawasaki rethink his current position and change it for the better. He is taking a risk for which he will be justly rewarded.

Currently he is driving safely over a freeway and manoeuvring carefully through a number of vehicles. He has blurted out his deepest secret to the last person he would want to know and now he chooses to practice his right to remain silent like a common criminal in the US. He is in Chiba but all this talk about being a good partner and doing proper police work must have made him reminisce about some of his favourite American buddy-cop movies. He would be spewing one-liners of those action movies during long journeys like these and often he would try to copy chase scenes. This is the reason why I don't go driving with him during one of his cases. My fear of accidents discourages me from causing him bodily harm and on every occasion, stopping him from pulling stunts requires me to call his older sister and have her tell him off.

Proved counterproductive every single time.

After she was finished with her brother she would turn on me. Somehow I never escape judgement and yet I became a seminal sergeant in Chiba. A mystery of the ages it seems. Taking advantage of this pleasant silence made me delve deeper into this knee jerk reaction closely associated with bereavement.

A huge loss often makes one aware of how insignificant we truly are. A speck of dust in a desert, a drop of water in an ocean, a slim brushstroke in a painting means nothing. One man is faceless in a crowd. Those who want to see the bigger picture will be looking at an abstract painting drawn by someone professing to be from the future. Only an art critic can make sense of all this nonsense, running rampant in a painter who claims to be a man out of this time.

Was criticized my whole life. My methods, my action, my lack of disregard for consequences and each of my critics have a name to go with their face. Every one of them had a say in this matter of mine concerning loss and death.

Met most of them. At least those who are alive.

Met with Yukinoshita Yukino. Her memory leaves a bad taste in my mouth like tasting animal urine on soft snow. She is beyond saving. Her family participated in an age-old barter system and exchanged her happiness for wealth and prosperity. An arranged marriage was always on the cards for her. She also had a fair idea who will be chosen to be her husband. As expected she played her part. An unhappy marriage could not be saved but husband and wife stayed together to respect their families wishes. She stopped trying in vain.

I have seen ice sculptures show more feelings than her. She is a capable businesswoman, knows every tricks in the trade and she is more than capable of unsettling me. Her heart pumps liquid nitrogen in her veins and her eyes are a pair of piercing icicles. When she dies, I'm certain hell will freeze over. But for now she looks at this world with cold disdain and wishes for another ice age to cleanse her impurities.

A year ago an effort of her saw fruition. A silver lining in a cloud, a fetal image in an ultrasound, could have saved her. Motherhood would have suited her well for she already knew what not to be courtesy of her own evil mother. But unfortunately she was robbed of this privilege. She lost her unborn child due to certain complications earlier this year.

After this painful experience she gave up on everything and everyone. She became a frigid woman who lives only to enjoy the pleasure of doing business.

A cut-throat capitalist.

After our little chat she kissed me goodbye. Never expected nor did I hesitate. This was her last attempt to agitate me before I could leave her office and meet other people who are actually living more than only breathing. I felt gangrene spreading across my cheek from where her lips made contact. Something was off with her kiss. Yukinoshita Yuri has a nice ring to it. Could she possibly be a lesbian? She has my sympathy. Being married to Hayama would make anyone change their sexual orientation. Must remember to investigate further.

After leaving her office I went and met her older sister. Yukinoshita Haruno has provided her expertise to police personnel for many years and everybody has a high opinion about her therapy sessions. She frequently lends her insight and helps create psychological profiles of crazy killers and mad murderers. She is not a part of the police force but more of a court appointed therapist. But getting her clearance is mandatory before one can return to the workforce after a prolonged period of absence, resultant of a tragic incident or a traumatic experience.

During my prolonged period of suspension, I was forced to seek treatment from her chambers. Had to come clean before her. She is good at catching me in my lies. She is not surgical in her approach and after my appointments, I often felt like my skull had been pried open by a crowbar. She writes me a prescription and provided me with my daily dose of proper medicine. Tasked with helping me look normal, appear sane and less paranoid, she has become a dark keeper of my inner most secrets. She knows what makes me vulnerable, what my weaknesses are, how I think what I think and that made me uncomfortable. But she assures me her days of taking advantage of me are far behind her.

She was disowned by her family when she refused to make the ultimate sacrifice of marrying someone younger than her. She was chosen by her future husband but her unwillingness led him to choose her younger sister. She was neither invited for the engagement nor did she attend the wedding. When I informed her about Yukinoshita Yukino and her missed chance at becoming a mother she stayed silent for a minute than snorted, saying that an unborn child was saved from another cruelty of fate.

Caught her in her act.

I have been good at seeing her true face since I was in high school. Back then if I had known she was studying psychology I would have been far more careful of her attempts at getting under my skin. But nowadays she is more of a pest than an actual nuisance. She is easy in the eyes and more of a guilty pleasure. I know what will happen to me and she shares my opinion. For that I'm welcome. Like always, after our session was over, she would present me with a token to commemorate my suffering- A black rose.

She gives a flower to all her patients, likes to let everyone know about her penchant for gardening and her appreciation for exotic plants. She talks rather fondly of her boutique. Her crowning achievement, she says. On these rare occasions I see her like any other normal woman, who likes beautiful things to compliment her femininity. And then I watch her pruning a sapling, cutting off weak twigs and remember she can thrive in any natural habitat but she will never lose her element of elegant savagery.

Her flowers are irksome.

I have declined countless times but nonetheless I find myself unable to win against her florid charm and after every gruelling appointment, I return back to my place of dwelling, carrying a long stemmed rose much to my dislike. Throwing them away never crossed my mind but giving them away to Saki Kawasaki did. She puts up with her siblings, my sister and then me. She should be given a Nobel Peace Prize but a lowly flower is all I can manage. At first she accepted this small token of mine with caution. She ran her fingers through a few petals, took a small whiff, then smiled and began looking for a vase.

We have no vase.

She never buys unnecessary things and I never bother her unnecessarily. I go into my room and return with an empty pencil holder. After a melancholic moment she silently agrees and now our dining table has a floral ornament.

Bringing her flowers from Yukinoshita Haruno has become a habit. She knows they are not bought, she knows they are given to me and I hand them down to her but she keeps them anyways. All women love flowers. Saki Kawasaki is no different. Based on a high school incident, I would think black is her favourite colour. But she is a grown woman now and her preference might have changed. I never venture a guess into this dangerous territory and preserve my wellbeing through doing my own laundry, separately. Her favourites are her own business and I respect her privacy.

Black is not my favourite colour. I wear black because white will not do. Red blood on white fabric never becomes innocently pink. Black never mixes with others but goes well with everything- mud, blood, ketchup, anything. I save myself from dry-cleaning duty and wear these dirty clothes and say they are clean. No one takes a closer look and wearing cheap cologne masks my stench.

Before I became a police officer, I smelled of old ink, fresh paper and clichéd subplots. I had tried my hand at writing and was met with mediocre success. Enough to pay the bills and keep my parents from worrying. Instead I made they worry about my sister's wellbeing. Felt like I was being a good brother. But after what happened to our parents my writing warped and became incredibly dark and stoic. Never again was my work published. Zaimokuza Yoshiteru tried to help but he had his limits. We went our separate ways, but he and I met at his place sometimes. We co-wrote a couple of projects from time to time and slowly after my inner turmoil found a better release through police business I was reintroduced to his publisher. I regained their trust by using a pseudonym and began contributing to fiction and fantasy at an irregular basis, whenever I needed a distraction from dishing out injustice to these criminals of Chiba who provide good writing material.

After my last therapy session I went to his place and met him. He's always at home. He opened the door to greet me and was surprised to see me carrying a bouquet of chrysanthemums. Like a true light novelist who sticks to what he is good at, he decided to over think and misunderstand the whole situation. I let it slide when he accused me of being a hindere and let him off the hook when he said, I was copying one of his main characters. But when he began talking about BL, I knew this BS had to stop.

Gave him a finished copy of my draft and told him my pseudo-literary career was on hold. He understood, asked whether this bouquet was for his grave, and wondered whether he had missed his funeral by sleeping all day. He sleeps a lot. No wonder he misses out on important news. Told him to relax and be there on Sunday, if he wants.

Both Yoshiteru Zaimokuza and him called me a friend.

They called me by my first name.

Now, one is dead and I'm down to one friend. Wonder how long he will last. He is having a tough time trying to make a comeback. After he was accused of plagiarism and brought to court, everyone had given up on him. He settled his dues, faded away into a background of litany and rekindled a weak friendship.

He had many things but he had nothing.

Divorced twice. Alleges both his wives married him for money not love. Was there any doubt. A voice actress in an anime series based on his work and an idol who sang a theme song for that same anime, are his lovely ex-wives. He has joint custody over his kid but he sees him more like a cash-cow than an actual father.

I am extremely happy to have never met them.

After being a decent friend, I took my leave and left with a bouquet and a small pile of shonen manga. Zaimokuza had guessed correct when he said this was for a grave. Just not him, not my friend who died, not my friend whose name I cannot say. These flowers and these mangas are for a person who is about to die. Death is certain. She has maybe months, maybe a week. Every woman loves flowers but this woman is more particular about her choice of reading material. For a respected teacher I have never seen her read serious literature but it is not my place to judge. Her judgement has been passed, unfairly, by an absent god.

I knock on her door and wait patiently. She takes her time. I hear her cough. Painfully. She hides her blood splashed handkerchief behind her back and smiles warmly. Lets me come in. She has stopped taking chemotherapy, says she would like to have hair back before she dies. I am troubled to agree with her. Cigarettes cause cancer. She knew, everyone knew. She never blames herself, never blames anyone.

She is at peace, a fifty year old virgin, dying alone, surrounded by dry flowers and old copies of shonen manga. I have stopped trying to understand her. She says, she wants me beside her bed, holding her hand when she dies. I promise to pay my respect to my old teacher. She talks of those old times, those best times-her career, her students-and only asks for me to listen and hand me a tissue when her emotions betray her. I compile. Only thing I can do. I cannot fight a terminal illness. No one can. Not even in 2035. I never ask why I never have acquaintances that have happiness in their lives.

Happiness is a lie. It is evil.

…Youth is a lie. It is evil.

This much I have grown.

/

1984 is almost over and 2035 awaits my arrival

"Onii-sama you should put that book away. We are only a couple of blocks away from Falcon Facilities."

Seems Taishi Kawasaki has found his voice. I take a look outside at this locale and take in the modern structure of this facility which claims to be a pioneer in cutting edge research and science. A number of rumours have cropped up about this neighbourhood. Sci-fi references abounds. Most joke fables around Area 51 of America became a true in Japan. Isshiki Iroha says she saw dead aliens taken out in body bags from this building. But then again she is with multiple restraining orders issued under her name from countless key individuals. One of them happens to be a powerful businesswoman and shareholder of this facility, not to mention the unhappy wife of the public face of this organisation and the brain behind this outfit.

I don't need to say their names. Names are unessary in my mind. Good thing we have pronouns and common nouns and other official titles. Leaving an unreliable paparazzo, I decide to follow a reliable reporter with integrity. Tsurumi Rumi says, a friend of a friend told her, that this place makes clones of cows and overflows the market with artificial meat. She really should stop copying me. This friend of a friend thing never fooled anyone. Maybe Taishi Kawasaki, but he is an idiot so he doesn't count.

"Onii-sama how was the book?"

Counting. One idiot.

"Great. Detective you can drop me off here. I can walk the rest of the way."

"Eh? I'm not going with you?"

"No you are not."

"Why?"

Thanks again George Orwell. Shakespeare has nothing on you.

"I need you to return my book back to the office library"

I hold up this book, my rescuer, my champion and my bug repellent. Save me once again and let me escape with my mean narrow-mindedness. Let this piece of literature be a good excuse to send away Taishi Kawasaki.

"…you want me to take this book back to headquarters and returned to the library."

"Yes"

"…then you want me to comeback, right here and join you in your investigation"

"No"

Our car stops and my driver turns around. I look at his face and his annoyed features. He is trying to scowl at me like his older sister. I take a good look and snort. He has a long way to go if that's the best he can manage. Hope he never asks his older sister to teach him how to scowl. One scary Saki Kawasaki is enough.

"Why can't I go with you onii-sama?"

"Because I said so. Do you plan to disobey a direct order from you sergeant"

"No"

I sigh. He is disappointed. But he should have known better. My indefinite suspension was lifted because this investigation required me to employ a certain skill set he will never possess. He looks forward to walking on his career path, get promoted, have an increment. He has a bright future.

Me. I have a past, a present perhaps, but no future. My superiors have a hunch. This case will perhaps be my last. Taishi Kawasaki is naïve and new. I am cynical and worn. He will not be a part of my explorations into this underbelly of society. He will not carry my taint, my stench, my vision.

I exit this vehicle and hand him my book. He takes it and places it on the passenger seat beside him. He wanted me to sit there at the beginning of this journey but I declined. Now I'm not sure whether he will ever want me to sit beside him, when are inside a vehicle.

I should be giving myself a pat on my shoulder for this remarkable achievement but all I can do is exhale despondently.

"Have this book back to the library at the earliest. I don't want to end up paying an exorbitant late fine like everyone. You would think, saying I'm a sergeant would help but it doesn't. You understand?"

"Roger Sergeant Hikigaya."

Wow. Just wow. Better try another approach.

"Your onii-sama is only looking out for you. Have a break. Take the car out for a long drive. Live a little."

"Your wish is my command sergeant."

Now, now, let's not get cheeky. You won't like me when I'm cheeky.

"Think about your future plans. How you want to approach Komachi, take her where and do it how. Like you said this has to be special. That takes a lot of hard work and planning. Have you figured everything out?"

Taishi Kawasaki chokes and succumbs to self doubt. He shakes his head unable to form words in his mouth. I guess he thought. I won't take advantage of this. But this is not really taking advantage. I'm looking out for my sister and her…her… Kawasaki-onee san's only brother

"No! But I will. You promised to keep silent till then."

"And I will"

"But if I disobey you then you will tell Komachi! Ruin this for me! For her! You are blackmailing me Hikigaya-san"

Kid gloves are off.

"You are wrong! If you disobey my order then you're off the case. I'm a sergeant, I can do that and I will do it happily. But this will have nothing to do with what you have plans with my sister. The only person who has any chance of ruining it will be you! But you shouldn't worry. Komachi will forgive you. That's how nice she is, and your sisters, both of them, will help you win back her forgiveness."

Taishi Kawasaki takes in every word and slowly begins to relax but then his eyes stumble upon a problem.

"What about you?"

How good of you to ask

"I will let you live. Komachi will never forgive me if I did anything with her boyfriend and your older sister will slice me in half if I hurt a hair in your empty little head."

Taishi Kawasaki finds amusement in my misery.

"You finally called me 'boyfriend'"

Choose your words carefully!

"No! No! Why you I call you my boyfriend! We are both heterosexual. I know I am. Hope you are too otherwise I will never forgive you for playing around with my sister's heart. Are you an idiot?!I called Komachi your boyfriend! No. No! I mean, I called you Komachi's boyfriend. Yeah, that's right. No misunderstanding. You truly are a defective detective, you you…you bug"

I am having a panic attack. After contemplating of misery and decay, loss and death throughout this long journey, I am experiencing symptoms of a panic attack because this brat doesn't know how to talk straight.

He will definitely mess up.

I can imagine him going down on one knee and forgetting my sister's name at the final minute. I had trouble remembering their family name throughout high school. Somehow I found out they have rare disease with the same name, which causes blood inflammation and heart problems. Afterwards I never forgot their family name because this bug makes my blood boil and whenever he says something stupid, I get a minor heart attack. This bug will kill me by worrying me to death about what he will do with Komachi.

Komachi would make a great nun.

Just saying.

"Onii-sama are you sure? You never liked meeting people from our high-school days. I mean you practically wanted to claw out your eyes when you saw Tamanawa and his wife occupying your desk. Will you be alright handling him?"

Honestly no. Dishonestly yes.

"I will be fine. You should listen to me on this one. I have met with every people that I can possibly think of, who have anything to do with Tot…my friend's case and I have met with them alone because they are comfortable shedding their second skin only before me. They say, 'three is a crowd' and these people will put up an act if you come with me and then we will get no leads and make no headway in this case. Do you really want that?"

"No."

"Then trust me. The sooner we close this case, the better, and then you can stop being Komachi's boyfriend."

"Stop being his boyfriend!?"

"Of course. You are wishing to change the status quo right? You can't have it both ways. I think you have to dump her first. Don't do that. I will shoot you in head. Maybe she has to dump you. That sounds right."

"…that's not how it works onii-sama."

"Then keep it simple. Stop making everything perfect. None of us had a perfect life. Tell me the truth! You only decided to take this final step because you got scared of all the uncertainties of this world. In May, a person had his birthday and in October we are about to have his funeral!"

I take a deep breath and fist my hand into my trouser pockets. I have said enough. I need to stay in control. I need my medication. For that to happen I need to make Taishi Kawasaki leave at once.

"Sorry onii-sama. But you are wrong."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Before Christmas. I had plans for asking her before Christmas. Tot-"

"Don't say his name!"

"Sorry!"

There is no need to shout. I need my pill.

I turn around, my back is facing Taishi Kawasaki and I take out a pill from my suit pocket and swallow it dry. I am not feeling better. These medicines take time. I turn around again and face Taishi Kawasaki. He must have a faint idea of what I did. He makes no comment. Good for him.

"Sorry for shouting. Look this is getting late. Go home. I will be okay."

"…alright."

Seems my shouting have made him look guilty instead of me. Social etiquette like this I will never understand. But they are helpful. Seems I have sent him away on a guilt trip. With any luck he will forget about taking this book back to the library. Good. I didn't take it from the library. I borrowed it from my superior. He won't miss it.

Taishi Kawasaki turns the car around and gives me one last look.

"Best of luck"

I nod.

/

Now I'm alone in this hostile territory. I make a quick inventory of what I have concealed on me

My sidearm is equipped with a silencer. Standard issue for undercover police work.

A gas mask. Standard issue for taking down a meth lab.

A pocket knife. My insurance.

A torch. To light my path.

Taishi Kawasaki would have gone in and knocked on the front door. He would have had a wonderful chat with a manipulative person and he would be none the wiser. He is a good detective, I have no doubt. But these people have been what they are since high-school. Maybe even earlier. They were told to put up a façade and fool everyone. Now what was their mask has become their face and what was their face has become a mask.

Men with mask should see me and my eyes. I see them clearly.

Having Taishi Kawasaki not along for this misadventure had another perk. He was under the assumption that I had made an appointment for this meeting. He would be correct. I had in fact made an appointment. But at the last moment, before I exited headquarters, I received a text message from a personal assistant, saying the brains behind Falcon Facilities had to cancel owing to a prior commitment. I choose to ignore the mad ramblings of a fujoshi. Not the first time I have.

My actions are completely justified. I wasn't requesting permission, not seeking an audience with this great man of our generation, who to me is nothing more than a fake with fake brain. With how much his family made after he was married, I wouldn't be surprised if he had his brain transplanted with a long dead Einstein. I don't know whether this is possible. But it is science. They don't have to explain anything.

I choose not to explain myself. This would be a perfect opportunity to examine these limitations of mine. My boss agreed I would have zero interference from politicians and bureaucrats but he didn't make it sound much convincing. What better way to test these troubled water by breaking into a facility which has a major part in a growing military-industrial complex, never before heard of in Japan, let alone in Chiba.

I quietly walk away from this guarded fortress. No chance of making a full frontal assault. They have guards with prototype weapons, not meant to kill but cause serious bodily malfunctions. Heard prison guards complain about bowel disorder and bladder malfunction among inmates who became unwitting targets to these prototype projectiles during an unfortunate prison riot.

Must have been funny. But I'm not her for a good laugh.

Before undertaking this task, I had studied blueprints and layouts of this facility, those which are available in public domain and those which are concealed. Working for law enforcement and investigating a high profile case has its perks.

My studies have revealed a small maintenance shed away from the main facility and standing on the opposite side of the street, having no protection from any guards with guns or attack dogs with sharp teeth. No one would think this small shed would have anything to do with this formidable fort and that's the idea.

I walk towards this structure and stand before the locked door. There is a close circuit camera peering into me from the corner of the doorframe. I tap the lens mockingly with my index finger.

"Hello Hayama"

No answer.

"Wanna let me in? I know your security detail has a response time of three minutes. I am willing to wait four."

Four minutes later there is no response. I know he is within this facility. He is a high value target. Never leaves the city without annoying the police, never leaves the country without annoying the military. Why? Because he has a big brain. Well I have a rotten brain and I wouldn't exchange it with yours even if you pay me. His movements cannot be tracked without bordering on a gray area but before meeting him, I made it my business to know each member of his security detail, had their files brought in and studied their schedule. Most of them are in today. Guarding this facility. His assistant has made no plans to make travel arrangements.

He is here.

But where is my escort?

Never mind.

I talk to this camera positioned at an upward angle above my head. I stare into this blinking red dot, recording me live and give a creepy smile.

"Sorry. I forgot to knock"

I take my silenced gun out from my shoulder holster and fire three times.

"Knock Knock Knock"

Industrial grade locking mechanism. German made. Now ready to be sold for scrap. He has a lot of money. I'm sure these locks cost very little.

As expected, studying those blueprints was a good idea. This maintenance shed is actually an emergency exit meant for personnel of Falcon Facilities to evacuate in case of crisis situation. There is a reason this cutting edge scientific research centre is located in the outskirts of the city. Scientists dabble in many things, things that are better left alone. Without Einstein there might have been no atomic weapons, but when I say this in a room full of intellectuals, they look at me like I am the one that has gone mad. Have you seen is hair? All I have is an ahoge.

An emergency exit can be an impromptu safe entranceway. This path leads underground and comes up inside the main building. Currently I'm walking through a cavernous channel on foot. There are display panels on both sides of this corridor illuminating my passage. They are beginning to show static. A silent alarm has been tripped, motion detectors are activated and spy cameras are recording. I have nothing to hide nothing to be ashamed.

I am just a man making another man keep his appointment. I am being a true gentleman. I keep my promise of seeing him and he gets to keep his promise of seeing me. Let's call this a spontaneous high school reunion and everybody wins.

My sensitive nose picks up a scent and I immediately place my gas mask onto my face. I take out my torch and I can see gaseous substance dancing before my beam of light. I test my breathing. All seems to be well and good. This seems to be a form a knockout gas. Nothing hazardous. I continue this morning stroll inside a demon's den.

My legs are moving forward at a steady pace. My shoes are making contact with white linoleum.

My legs are moving forward at a steady pace. My shoes are leaving ink marks on white pages.

Has some foreign agent invaded my nervous system? Not sure. I had a book with me this entire time but I never felt like making an entry. That would have been perfect. Is this knockout gas? It could be poison. Nothing is certain.

Took out pocket knife. Cleaved off a hunk of rock from underground walls of cavern. Began cutting into stone pages and wrote my current entry:

"Met my demons and raised a toast to bad conscience. Clinked glasses with fallen angels and said cheers with many a fiends. Was welcomed back by impurities and hailed down by minions of misery. Said my greetings to none at all and refined myself with a better class of criminals.

An ice- woman savoured my taste. Coddled me with tragedy and corrupted me with remorse. I was led to betray my petty pretence of narrow mindedness and made to evoke sympathy for her loss. I was taken advantage. Affections are affected. Shallow. I never forgot. A heart of ice can melt but never bleed. Tears dry and broken hearts beat. Walking on broken glass is an alternative and walking on a trail of petals is choice. Nuptials nettle necessarily. Is possible to test new avenues to heal, seek comfort in other arms and find companionship among divisive sides. Changing teams halfway is not a betrayal in a contact sport. Everyone loves to play ball.

Love has step sisters. Sisterhood is fragile. One woman has a chance to become a wife, a mother, a divorcées, a stepmother, a mother-in-law, a grandmother and many more caricatures in a play of life. Sisterhood is a false bottom. One leaves one behind. One makes a business, one runs a shop. Both are estranged and never wish to meet one other again. Auto-repair parts fall of a familial bond. Good end to a bad relationship.

Ships sink in a sea of life. 8th grader syndrome leaves withdrawal and depression, a cocktail of bad choices. Cosplay costumes in basement hold memories, childhood ridicule concerning obesity makes one take up steroids, hire fitness trainers and train in martial arts. No time for a wife, no time for a kid and not time for originality. Inevitability is inevitable.

Death apologizes to no one. Cancer is a cure of Gods to rid of this world of those few who remained true to themselves. Smoking kills. Enough said. Nothing else. Big tobacco makes millions and helps this economy. No one blinks. We watch hypocrisy, join a sham and leave comments on twitter

#Cancercontaminatescadaver. Makes no sense.

Currently my mind is ceasing to make sense. I'm currently walking through smoke. I am not well. I cannot see clearly. Everything is foggy. Two people- an assistant and a supposed genius are responsible for my predicament. At the end of this path the smoke will clear and my eyes will take in every detail. I will grab the smartest man in Chiba and tell him I have turned him into a fool. I wait to wipe this fake smile of his face.

Let my misadventures continue.

/

A/N: Yeah… this chapter was very hard and very big.

Hopefully the next one will be easy. 10333 words is a lot.

Important question number 1: Should this be rated M?

Important question number 2: It says 12 reviews but I count 11. What's up with that?

Leave a review guys. Means a lot when you do.

Won't betray your dreams.

Next Chapter: An Interlude to a Tragedy.


	4. An Interlude to a Tragedy

Chapter 4: An Interlude to a Tragedy

Don't own Oregairu or Watchmen

Warning: Skips ahead a day. Hikigaya is on pills.

8man's Journal, October 15, 2035.

Missed wake. Left before cremation. Skipped burial. Worst friend, I know. Totsuka deserved better. Unfortunately he had me on medication. He was a good guy, bound to make bad choices. He called me a friend. I had him killed. He made Sagami his wife and I turned her into his widow.

Tough.

Love and marriage. Short lived pleasures. Never lasts. Husbands have affairs. Wives cheat. Vise-versa. They separate, get divorced and remarry. Die in different beds. Story gets old.

Bored.

Worried.

Komachi and Taishi. Any different? Only hope. Think about them later. They are not getting married anytime soon. He has to propose. She has to accept. Many roadblocks ahead. Wish them luck on their journey and pray Komachi never suffers like Sagami. Unlike her she will have me.

Regret nothing. Totsuka was a friend. His death is on my conscience. His wife, correction his widow, can blame me all she wants. Nothing will change. Totsuka is dead. Dead stay dead. Permanently. Grief passes. Lessens over time. Scars heal. Mentality changes. Living proof, right here.

/

After marriage saw Sagami in new light. Told Totsuka he was becoming unbearably naïve when he told me he was marrying her. She was his manager. A good manager. Looked after him. Cared for him. Kept up with him. Marriage would mess things up. She would have full control over every aspect of his life, tell him where to go, what to wear, who to meet. Unbearable. He would always have her. Whenever he goes out, she would be there nagging him to come home soon and whenever he returns she would be there waiting to cross-examine him about how his day went. He would have no privacy. He would have to share his life, his home, his room with another person.

Made me gag.

Made him determined.

He said my words made him hasten his proposal. Never understood. Never bothered. He married Sagami. Good for her. But I was his best man. Wives come and go but best man stay eternal. Felt good to shoulder this responsibility. Smiled in a couple of photos. Asked Komachi for a dance but Taishi Kawasaki stole her from me. Before I could squash a bug, his older sister whisked me away towards the dance floor. Danced with Saki Kawasaki. Stepped on her toes by mistake. She mistook my mistake. Thought I was doing it on purpose. She is a dangerous dancer. Kicked me in the shin a couple of times but never missed a step while dancing. Her way of saying, not to come between her brother and my sister. Message understood. Now, bully Taishi Kawasaki only at work. Remember dance with fondness. Had a great time.

/

Sagami suffered silently. Almost mistook her at airport, the other day. She looked nothing like her. She made no biting comments. There was no hostility. She was a hollow shell. Felt bad. Should have comforted her. Should have told her everything would be fine. Said nothing. Hate change. Missed banter. Surprising. She sat beside me at front, her eyes red, her handkerchief wet. Should have kept a box of tissues. Remember Cultural Festival. She cried then. I was responsible. She cries now. I am responsible. Expected anger, rage, physical violence. A tight slap on my cheek, spit on my face, a kick to my groin. Never expected this. Like many she had a façade. Innocent, humble, ordinary. Fooled many. Proud, pompous, egotistic. Hid well. Marriage changed her. Her façade vanished. She became one. Proud of her husband, humble herself and protective of their future. They looked good together. She made me believe her. Unfortunately 'believe' hides 'lie' between 'be' and 've'.

Lies are having a field day. Investigation continues. Three pills and coffee. Good breakfast. Others worry. Concerned, they say. Other day gave a shoulder to his casket on way to crematorium. Sagami insisted. Would look bad to say no to a newly made widow. Agreed. Taishi tagged along. Unnecessary. I am fine. Functioning. Today is Sunday. I bury a part of my past. Once again I bury a part of me.

/

Heavy security. Four block radius. Safest cemetery on earth. Had riot police and a swat squadron on standby, armed and prepared with water cannons, tear gas and rubber bullets. An ambulance and a fire truck are parked nearby. Rookies in crowd control. Veterans on guard duty. Snipers on rooftops. Tech-teams run surveillance. All report to Taishi Kawasaki. He reports to me. Saves me a headache.

Sagami left security threats for me. She handled everything else. Totsuka had an academy here where he taught tennis whenever he came back to Chiba. Totsuka helped them once. Now they help his widow. I only keep an eye on things. Snoop around a little. Not everything is as they seem. Media played their hand. Sagami gave a statement. I gave them a look. Flashes of cameras reflected off my dark sunglasses. I looked like something out of the Matrix. Good film. Copied a little from Ghost in the Shell. Great film. Stellar anime. Critics say they paid homage. I say it like I see it. What a rip-off. Major looks way better than all those agents. I mean look at her. Perv later.

I know why others hate me. I am what they are not but what they wish to be. Pity. I wish to be no one but wishes are seldom granted. Only one wish of mine came true. Came true in a limousine. First couple of Chiba underwent six security checkpoints. Removed driver. He ran over a dog. Not lying. Had Hayama drive. Hates driving. Dinged hood. Scratched door. Punctured a tire. Parked in a wrong place in a bad neighbourhood. Homeless kids will probably remove tires and replace them with cinderblocks. Completely normal. Afterwards, whatever is left of this once fine limousine is taken away by a tow-truck back to the impound for wrongful parking. Just following police protocol. Just doing my job. Husband and wife walked it off. They hate walking nowadays. Yukinoshita has low stamina. Rather low of me to call this another reason for their unhappy marriage. Good thing I'm shallow. Hayama received a full pat down from a homosexual police officer. Would you have me discriminate against a fellow officer only because of his choice of lifestyle? Of course not. He was thorough. Hayama blushed. Yukinoshita snickered. A moment later, table turned. Hayama smiled at Yukinoshita. A couple of sniffer dogs slobbered all over her. She is afraid of dogs. Huh. Who knew? I did? Don't think so. By time the unhappy couple reached the cemetery they really looked like they were looking forward to burying someone. Me mostly. Probably alive. But fake people have an image to maintain. They stayed put to watch the grave proceedings. I left them alone afterwards. Had my little revenge. Came nowhere close to what Hayama did, gassing me with an untested hallucinogen, but publicly humiliating him felt like a proper payback.

My escapade at Falcon Facilities was a bust. Learnt nothing of value. Risked my physical wellbeing and mental health by following breadcrumbs. Hayama assured me of my safety. Never believed him. Needed a doctor. Visited Shiromeguri-senpai. Had her run me for everything from HIV to Ebola. Everything came up negative. Felt safe. My emergency contact arrived and gave me a lift. Looked silly riding on a moped, sitting behind RumiRumi. She is extremely possessive about her bike. Next to her camera this is her most prized possession. Both of them are on the guest list. Least I could do. Sagami had no problems. Add two more to a list of over four hundred. Understandable. Totsuka was a national icon. A global figure. Saw people from across most continents attend wake. Sports personnel mostly. Tennis, soccer, cricket, field hockey, volleyball, table tennis, baseball, golf, basketball and various others, all sent representatives for this sad occasion. Nobody misses a good photo-op opportunity. Free publicity. Maybe an interview. Death is good business. Totsuka was popular way before he became a professional player. His club mates, his classmates from Sobu High, his friends from university, all made a brief appearance. His trainers and coaches dropped by and shed a tear. Sagami knew everyone. Like I said, good manager. She decided all envelopes brought by funeral attendees containing condolence money would be given away to various charities. Said she was following her husband and respecting his wishes. Totsuka loved charity. Like I said, great man and like any great man he had his share of followers and fans. Hysteria and fanaticism marked his untimely demise. Rumours spread. Everyone wanted to skip work, drink all day and weep at night like children. Men cried like babies. Women cried for blood. Kids cried foul. Foul play was suspected from beginning. Police knew this much before bringing me on board. I only opened a can of worms. Media caused controversy, made weak minded people suffer from mental breakdowns, made adrenaline junkies participate in crime sprees and made desperate people add another line in their suicide notes. Neurotics tried to emulate his manner of death. Was easy enough. No one needed help. Morgues began to fill up. Funeral homes made a killing. Police found themselves in line of fire.

Sagami called for peace. Stood on a public forum and ordered everyone to stop this nonsense. Said every lunatic calling himself a fan of his was running around desecrating her husband's memory by spreading chaos and anarchy. Her popularity took a hit but matters slowly de-escalated. Bore witness. Had she been this confident and displayed such oratory and leadership skills back then our little rooftop incident would have never had happened. But then again that led her to seek redemption. She wanted a second chance. Started small. Became manager of the tennis club and like they say the rest is history. Understand history but chemistry is beyond my level of comprehension. Was never good in the sciences and only science can explain how a chuunibyo and a fujoshi could think of taking a Ferrari to a gravesite. Zaimokuza drove. Dropped Ebina at a random street, angled away from line of vision of anyone watching from cemetery. He arrived first. Got a ticket for speeding. Ebina walked in later. Interesting. Zaimokuza and Ebina. Close? Could be. A handful of his latest works are in fantasy and sci-fi genres. Became a best seller. Fuelled his comeback. Ebina must have helped. She his muse? Maybe more. Zaimokuza is buffed up on steroids. Body fat percentage in single digits. She his type? His love life was never my concern but there is a chance of my involvement looming in near future. Ebina decides to keep Zaimokuza a secret from Hayama. His PR campaigns make tall claims. Smartest man in Japan they say. Yesterday saw demonstration. Not impressed. He gave me gas. Best he could do? I wrecked his car. No comparison. Cars are personal. That Limo had it coming. Expect him to contact my superior sometime later today. Lodge complain. Don't care. Will be worth it. He is top dog. Others are lapdogs. I'm a mangy mutt. I lose by winning.

Played favourites. Despicable, I know. Only allowed RumiRumi to capture proceedings .Trust her. Rest of her ilk are vultures. Can do anything for a good story. Have no respect towards deceased. See a casket, take photo, and make headlines. All of them want to see their article on first page of a leading newspaper. Nothing like journalistic integrity. Reporters are a lost cause. She's different. I'm to blame. A gender-bended younger version of me, made her name out of clicking photos and breaking news stories on prime time. Her mother gave her a camera when she was a kid. Asked her to make beautiful memories. She tried. Was unsuccessful. Met me by coincidence. I applied my methods. Showed her how ugly society is. Discouraged her from changing. She grew up painting ugly pictures in her mind, graduated to filming ugly sides of our society when she became an adult and made a respectful living out of working in media. Nice job mini me. Feared she would one day become like Yukinoshita. She looked like her, talked like her. Guess she fooled me. Wonderful. Earned her place in our dining table. Shy about eating free food. Should take a page out of my book. One second thought no. Keep in mind, I have a journal. Very private. She can do better. Keika-chan calls her a friend. Another painful reminder.

Both remind me of Yukinoshita and Yuigahama.

Her whereabouts are unknown. Made enemies covering for Yukinoshita. Lied for her, concealed truth and faked reports. Went missing. Fear worse. Head of PR is RIP. Refer to her in past tense. She was a nice girl. Nice girls make mistakes. She was friends with Yukinoshita and it cost her everything.

Fire Queen paid her price in full. Miura is MIA. Hiding from drug cartels and arms dealers. She was a lawyer. Rubbed people the wrong way. No one knows where she is. Hayama said she's dead. Never believe him. Never saw their bodies. Never read their obituaries. Never visited their grave. Saying they are probably somewhere abroad is a good excuse. Need to see them to believe them. Dead fish eyes spot everything. Look underneath the underneath. See movement. Press earpiece.

"Detective Taishi Kawasaki, we have an intruder on ground. She's hiding behind shrubbery at western quadrant, ten feet away from burial site. Go say hello."

"You got it onii-sama."

Taishi Kawasaki began to follow my directions. He left Komachi. Saw her worry. Saw his sisters worry. Hated it. They looked around for me. Almost gave away my position. Decided to amend orders and keep my cover intact.

"Detective, take your older sister with you. She can handle this situation much better than any of us."

Detective hesitated. His voice sounded strained. Saw him take out his firearm and click off safety. He lowered his stance and began to proceed with extreme caution.

"Onii-sama this is not time for a joke. Are we in danger? Shall I evacuate the whole ground?"

"Depends on your definition of danger detective. Does my foxy kohai sound dangerous to you?"

He relaxed his stance a bit. Straightened his back. His face carried a modicum of shock.

"You mean Isshiki-senpai? How did she get in!?"

He really asks such stupid question. How do most people get in to a place?

"She scaled a wall. Laughed myself silly watching her fall off over and over again. She just found a good hiding spot a minute ago. Thought you should know."

"Thanks onii-sama. Anything else I can do?"

"Just do what I said. Take your older sister with you. She will chew her out in no time and maybe teach her a lesson about sneaking into private place where only those with invites are allowed. She is way better than both of us at handling Isshiki in her full paparazzi regalia."

"Your right onii-sama. Isshiki senpai is more afraid of my onee-san than she is afraid of me and you combined. And both of us are cops."

"Don't remind me. Ever wonder why your onee-san never wanted to be a police officer. She would have been way better than both of us."

Taishi Kawasaki tucked his firearm behind his waistband, shoved his hands deep inside both his trouser pockets and smiled, looking upward towards heaven. I recognise this grin of his. There is nothing heavenly about it. He talked into the comm. link in a low voice marred by scandalous humour.

"Onii-sama, are you by any chance fantasizing about my onee-san in your police uniform. That's pretty perverted, you know. Should I tell her? I should tell her. You two-"

"Stop moving."

"-look…eh? Stop moving. Shouldn't onii-sama be saying stop talking instead?"

"No. By all means, continue. I just want you to stand still so I can get a clean shot. Been a while since I fired one of these. Might need a little target practice. Your head looks remarkably big on the crosshairs detective, did you know that?"

"…No."

"How unfortunate. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all! You know me. I talk nonsense all the time. Um, I should head back to onee-san. Yeah I really should. Sorry for being disrespectful before onii-sama. Please forgive me."

"…"

"Should I take your silence as forgiveness?"

"No. I was just calculating wind speed and adjusting range. One shot, one kill. You remember, right?"

"Of course, of course, how can I forget. I will have onee-san confront Isshiki senpai right away."

He cleared his throat audibly, chuckled awkwardly and ran away in a dignified fashion. A few moments later I saw Saki Kawasaki picking Isshiki Iroha up by the scruff of her neck. She is way stronger than her. Strongest woman I know. Saw her whisper something in her ears and then without any further ado Isshiki began emptying her pockets of all electronic devices. Taishi Kawasaki volunteered to take them from her. He probably promised to have them returned after everyone left the grave. Saki Kawasaki watched her little brother do his job like a grown man. She looked proud of him. But then, why was she picking her ear with an annoyed look on her face. Moreover, why was my earpiece picking up static and chatter.

"Hey Taishi! How do you talk into these things? You just told me to put this in my ear and press this small white button at the top. If I apply anymore pressure, I will probably break this little thing in half and get it stuck inside my ear. Worthless piece of junk. Hello! Hello!"

"…"

Why you sneaky little bug! I was just trying to scare you a little. He was talking his mouth off, mentioning those lewd ideas about his onee-san. What kind of a brother is he!? He should be more respectful to his onee-san and while he's at it why should I be left out. I was just trying to teach him a lesson. Not like I would actually shoot him. Though, we are in a graveyard. There must be an empty grave around here somewhere. Not like a dead guy would complain.

"Hey Hikigaya! Hikigaya! Are you ignoring me!?"

Guess she found out.

"Of course not. There was a problem with my connection for a moment. We get that sometimes. Your brother is down there, I am up here. Wind. Turbulence. Birds. You get the idea."

"Uh-huh. Where are you lazing off anyway? You should be down here with us. Looking over Totsuka's burial like a proper best friend. He deserves this much from you."

She had a point. Of course skirting over them had become second nature for me. Rehearsed myself and repeated lines with a hint of hesitance.

"…Can I bring the picnic basket?"

She would have killed me right now. Shot me with a gun borrowed from her brother. Maybe do one of her killer karate moves on me and break my neck in the process.

"Are you hearing yourself right now!? Who brings a picnic basket to a burial ground?"

"Goths come to mind"

"Shut up!"

Saki Kawasaki had a wonderful idea today. She wanted to have a picnic lunch after our visit to the graveyard. Sundays are good for picnic. Of course I could never say no to her. I'm not nearly suicidal enough. Moreover she makes good food. Hate to admit this but she cooks better than Komachi. I have turned into a horrible brother. No wonder Taishi Kawasaki plans to take her away from me by marrying her. Regardless this picnic basket became a good prop and a proper excuse. I carried the basket like a gentleman but the funeral guests gave me a look. They looked uncomfortable about our plans for the rest of the day. Saki Kawasaki wanted to lift our spirits. She had good intentions. She woke up early and worked hard in the kitchen. But her picnic basket irked others so I decided to take it away from her. She thought I was leaving it at the back of our car. Wouldn't dream of it. Someone might steal all our food. Heard bears steal picnic baskets in jungles. A city is a jungle of cement. Hence I took the basket with me and climbed the elevator of a high rise building on the opposite side of the graveyard. Found a proper place for sniping and watched all proceedings from behind a scope. My targets were already inside the graveyard waiting for me to pick them out one by one if they decided to surprise me. I kept my fingers crossed. Here's to hoping its Hayama. Of course the only thing I killed was time. Apart from Isshiki nothing interesting has happened. Getting myself intimidated by Saki Kawasaki can hardly be called interesting when it happens to me almost every day.

"Hello!"

Alright having her shout in my comm. link is rather new.

"I can hear you fine Kawasaki. No need to raise your voice."

"Alright then. Do you want to come down from up there? And if you mention anything about a picnic basket again I would shove those rice ball you love up your-"

"Kawasaki, you are in a graveyard. Show some respect to the dead. What would they say when they hear such foul language coming from the mouth of a maiden? Do you want their ghosts to haunt you at night?"

Kawasaki is afraid of ghosts and anything remotely supernatural. Remember her visit into haunted mansion back during our school trip to Tokyo. She was scared. Horrified. Hid behind me and then ran straight out. Her childhood fears plague her still.

"…I really hate you Hikigaya."

"I can live with hate."

"I'm not a-afraid of g-ghosts."

"You sound convincing."

"I will kick your butt"

"Yes you will"

Heard her sigh. Bantering grows tiresome. She took a deep breath, looked up and found my nest. She talked in a barely audible whisper which mixed properly with the static running through our shared comm. link.

"Give me one good reason and we will never talk about this again. Why are you unwilling to share this tragic moment with us?"

She was a grown woman. Saw no tears in her eyes. She had shed her fair share. Not today. She remains strong. I only give the illusion of being strong. I'm in shambles, broken, waiting to be taken out like yesterday's trash. She deserves an answer after my world weary sighs.

"…Too many people."

"Sorry?"

"I said there are too many people. This is a circus. I have no plans of making a show out of it. I will pay my respects silently and in private. Not amongst them. I spoke to them, I watched them, and decided I have no place amongst them during this moment of paying homage. Totsuka was my friend. To them, he was just another poster boy. I would have to fake it like them if I want to participate in this sham. I hate being fake. I hope you understand"

She looked forlorn.

"I do understand. Thanks for being honest with me Hikigaya. But I hate to break it to ya, this graveyard is about to become a very busy place. After today this place would be open for public. You might have to wait a month or so before everything quiets down."

"I won't wait around for a month. I will probably think up something"

"What do you plan to do? Break in to graveyard at night? Good luck with that."

What a wonderful idea.

"Thank Kawasaki, I will do just that."

"What? Are you a complete idiot! Who breaks into a graveyard at night?"

"Someone who isn't afraid of ghosts."

"…hate you"

"I know"

/

Believed Taishi Kawasaki when he said he had everything covered. Have to believe someone. Gave him instructions and told him to call me when necessary. Left the car at his disposal. He needs to drive the others around here. After a small walk, found myself standing on my first battleground. This park holds memories. Here I learnt to play baseball by my lonesome. By myself. Used a lesson taught from this same ground to help the service club on one of their earliest request. Remember request. Totsuka's request. My miracle shot. Zaimokuza said I manipulated the sea breeze itself. Yeah he would say that. But my match winning shot, which brought Hayama and Miura to a sliding halt, was inspired from this sacred ground. Back then I won the match but lost the game. Will this time be any different?

Not one of my happiest moments. Not one of my best years. Horrible things happened and I came close to losing everyone once again. Gained notoriety and infamy through proper police work. Made sergeant five years ago. Taishi Kawasaki made detective three years ago. Both of us made our fair share of enemies. Thought we could protect ourselves. We could. But not others. Komachi and Keika had been kidnapped. Received no calls demanding ransom. Felt completely helpless. All this manpower and resources at my fingertips and I never felt more powerless. Taishi Kawasaki was in charge of this manhunt. Disobeyed countless police protocols. Both of us were beyond care. Saki Kawasaki went against our decision and began making her own inquiries. All three of us went our separate ways. We decided this was the only possible way to cover more ground. Unfortunately there was a fourth member in our search party who joined in uninvited. Tsurumi wanted to help. She had received a message from an unknown number. She texted me but I failed to reply. I had no time check my phone. Stupid I know. Should have found a way to keep in touch with everyone. But at that chaotic moment I didn't have the benefit of hindsight. None of us did. We were not thinking properly, we were behaving irrationally and running around in circles. By some stroke of luck news about a raging fire spreading in Sobu High reached my ears. Knew they were there.

Found myself at peace standing before an orange inferno. Three fire trucks tried to salvage burnt structures from my past. Wished them luck in their endeavour and dived in recklessly into a cloud of smoke and soot. A couple of firemen tried to stop me. Showed them my eyes, my badge, my gun. They knew crazy when they saw one.

Suffered minor burns but almost died from excessive smoke inhalation. Sprinkler system inside Sobu High had an upgrade. Everything was connected into an online server. Any decent hacker could tamper with them just to get a sick laugh. Had to manually override them from basement. Felt miserable on by inability to hack into computers. Turned sprinklers on and continued my search through an artificial rain falling over a manmade fire.

Solved an arson case once. Remembered charcoal black bodies displaying white teeth. Remembered using dental records to identify victims. Later had trouble digesting food. Smell from crime scene was a bad reminder

Komachi, Keika and Tsurumi remained unharmed. They suffered from mild dehydration. Nothing serious. They kept a cool head over their shoulders and kept out of trouble when the fire began to spread. They had no help. School was closed for the holidays. They only had their wits to guide them. Drew SOS on windows and doors within their reach. Unfortunately their signal was barely visible to anyone who stayed outside. Only I was foolish enough to walk into a burning building. This was my old high school, burning before my very own dead fish eyes. Knew every corridor and passageway of this institution and my morbid imagination made me run down an old forgotten path. Found them in service club, huddled together, shaking in terror. My suit had caught on fire and my leather shoes had begun to liquefy. Discarded suit and walked towards this scared bunch wearing charred clothes and grey socks. Sat with them. They held me. Heard them cry. Grew frustrated. Threw a table out a window. Big mistake. Protected these three from a flame backlash. Something about drastic changes in air pressure. Don't remember clearly. Grew lightheaded. With last bit of strength headed for a nearby window. Used a chair to fight fire. Needed firemen to pay attention. They already had my attention. A table flying out of a burning building is hard to miss.

/

Three girls got rescued. A day was saved. Everyone rejoiced. At the moment when everyone thought this terrible ordeal was finally over I lost my mind. Something snapped. I heard it. I saw it. I felt it. Lashed out at these girls who I saved not a moment ago. Told Komachi she was a horrible little sister, told her she was irresponsible and selfish. Felt oddly satisfied on hitting her with a wet handkerchief. Keika tried to stop me. Silenced her with a look. Told her she thinks nothing about the wellbeing of her sister and brother. Felt nice watching her tear up and cry before me. Tsurumi had a go at me. Broke her camera and accused her of only thinking about what makes a good story, not caring about who lived and who died. Accused her of acting like a foolish little girl who thought she could do anything. She should have tried to contact me. Disregarded her claims about sending me a text. Said she didn't try hard enough. Made three girls cry. Felt great. Found Taishi Kawasaki at a random street in Chiba. He had no idea of what was happening. Punched him in the gut. Told him he was a rubbish brother. He was not able to protect anyone and always depended on me and his older sister. Left him lying on the street, hurt and injured. Should have stopped there. But no. Saki Kawasaki remained. She came looking for me. She was not in a good mood. Heard what I did to others. She wanted to say her piece. Surprised her. Took my gun out and placed it on the small of her back. Took her outside into some random back alley covered in waste and garbage. For the first time saw her beautiful eyes full of fear. Not hatred only fear. Never knew what went through her mind. Didn't care back then and I'm too ashamed to ask right now. I gave her a cruel smile. Told her to stand with her back braced against a filthy wall. She looked helpless. Gave her my gun. Held her dainty little hands and told her how to hold a gun, how to take aim and shoot. She stood their gawking at me, tears in her eyes now freely flowing. She used both hands to hold my gun. Her hands were shaking. I opened my mouth, swallowed the tip of the barrel and told her to shoot me. We stayed like this for moment. My dead fish eyes stared into her deep purple ones. After five minutes her knees gave out. She sat there in a pile of garbage, holding my gun, my life in her hand. She looked horrible. A complete mess. Took pity. Called her brother, told him to pick her up and then walked away. Gave Saki Kawasaki another chance. Told her it was easy to shoot someone in the back. She let me live. I never understood why. Went away for two weeks, found myself suspended, lost my virginity, came back seeking forgiveness on bent knees, with willingness to kiss their shoes and worship the ground they walk. Eagerly underwent numerous trials and tribulations to check my resolve. All of them forgave me. Saki Kawasaki lied for me. I never understood why.

/

Spread a blanket on green grass and waited patiently. Picnic basket before me. Ate a rice ball and read a novel. Phone buzzed. Saw digital clock. Burial was over. All the guests must be taking their leave by now. Swallowed food before answering phone. A bug could wait for a minute.

"What happened now?"

"Onii-sama you won't believe who showed up at the last moment."

Brilliant. Finally something going my way.

"Well, tell me already? Was it Yuigahama or Miura?"

"Eh? You were expecting them to show up. But aren't they, you know?"

"Dead"

"Yeah."

"I will believe it when I see their bodies on an autopsy table. Till then I believe both of them are just missing. Anyway enough talk about missing people. Tell me about this person who showed up?"

"Oh right. It was Tobe-senpai"

Tobe Kakeru. Had his name added to my special list of guests. Besides Ebina, he is the only surviving member from Hayama's old clique. He is a disgraced washed up, has been soccer player who was disqualified for experimenting with muscle enhancement drugs before a tryout. He settled in Spain and leads a life engulfed in debauchery. Had no way to contact him. Ooka cheated in baseball. Rumour says a big time bookie had him killed. Yamato played rugby. He was a bit of a womanizer. Fooled around with the wrong girl. An overprotective father with a lot of money had him killed. Working theory around police headquarters is someone is killing off Japanese sportsmen one by one. Some argue this is a form of hate crime. No wonder they need me. There are similarities and I would be lying if I said I was not looking into their deaths but problem is they all happened abroad. Not much to go on. Waiting for foreign law enforcement bodies to call me back, have them send over their old case files is a very time consuming process. Having Tobe around will certainly speed things up. For one thing he is alive. He better stay that way before he and I could have a little chat. Need to makes sense of his actions

"What did he do? Did he talk to anyone?"

"He talked to Sagami for a bit, tried speaking to Ebina but she gave him the cold shoulder."

"Understandable. Did he talk to Hayama?"

"Yeah. Shook his hand and everything. Even greeted his wife"

Warning bells went off.

"Was he respectful?"

"Yeah onii-sama. You don't have to worry. He wouldn't try anything with this much police around."

Good to know

"Alright. Is he gone?"

"Yeah. He talked to Isshiki-senpai for a bit and exchanged contact details with her. Looks like she will be getting an interview out of him. Do you want me to have him followed onii-sama. I could set up a small surveillance team, have him watched twenty-four/seven."

"No need. He has done nothing wrong. Yet. If we showed our hand right away we will spook him. I need him in Chiba. He could break this case wide open. Leave him to me detective. I will get his whereabouts from Isshiki and pay him a visit."

"You don't want to involve others, do you?"

"No. You are a decent detective. I trust you to not tell others. I want to keep this close to the chest. Anyway when are you guys dropping by? I found a perfect picnic spot. It's close to a duck pond and beneath the shade of a big tree. Very quiet and tranquil atmosphere. Everyone will love it."

"We will be there shortly. Don't eat all the food onii-sama. You don't want one-san angry now do you?"

"Nobody does. Drive safe"

Wow. Sounded almost like a normal conversation. Have a moment to myself. Been a while since I made a proper entry in my mental journal. This time I have a book with me. There is no dead dog, no panic attack, and no gaseous substance messing with my mind. I am in complete control. I begin my entry:

"Prince Djoker received proper burial on a Sunday. Hate his tabloid name. Good weather forecast. Fit for a game of tennis. Totsuka was a dear friend of mine. His death made me suffer yet again. Tied knots in my stomach. Made my head hurt. Everyone cared about him but no one stepped forward to shed light on the circumstances surrounding his unnatural death. Everyone is wrong. They are throwing mud on his name, tearing down what he stood for. There is no right, no wrong. There is only a dead body and a case number. I have to be objective. Easier said than done. He was my friend. This is personal. Suffered from burns, recovered from illness and lived through misery. I will survive. I will see this through. I have to. His death matter to me. I'm selfish. I don't care where this investigation goes, whose head ends up on the chopping board, I will see this through till the end. I will not change who I am. I am a rotten and corrupt individual. I live off of others forgiveness. I thrive on second chance. I never fail to disappoint. I have a reputation to maintain. I will keep my, dare I say it, closed ones away from harm Protect them with my life. I might even drop this case if I figure they are in danger. Totsuka is already dead. There is nothing I can do to bring him back. I will not sacrifice another one of my own. Komachi, Tsurumi and all three Kawasakis' will be safe. Their protection comes first. Sorry my friend. But you are dead to me. Literally. I cannot place your needs above those of the living. Hope you understand. If you don't then don't wait for me. By some miracle I still believe in heaven and hell. You are in heaven, hopefully and when I died I will be in hell. We shall never meet again. It is for the best. I am not seeking retribution, this is not about closure. I am stating my intent. You will have my skills at your disposal but I am unwilling to pay the ultimate price. I have lost too many people. I am willing to loss myself to guarantee their safety. I will not kill myself. Hopefully my cowardice can be forgiven. If not, stand in line. I have millions of haters who despise him, who would love to see me dead. Totsuka will never be one of them. Not even in death. I have little time. I plan to enjoy myself today, have a little picnic with people who care about me. Let me have my moment of peace. I will resume my search shortly after sheltering myself beneath warmth and kindness by swallowing a good meal consisting of my favourite rice balls. Let me have a little interlude in this tragedy I call life."

/

A/N: Channelling a blended version of Rorschach and 8man right now. This chapter was a little different. Like I said at the 'warning' 8man is heavily medicated. Sorry for skipping scenes like the one at Falcon Facilities. Remember this is a series of one shots. I said so in summary. Felt bad but there is nothing I can do about it right now. Don't hate me.

On a side note I love Matrix and Ghost in the Shell. Blame 8man if you have a problem. Don't hate me. Wow I'm repeating myself.

Anyway, I think this will be a proper length for all my chapters in this story. Loved every review. Thanks everyone. Keep reviewing. Means a lot. Hopefully next chapter would be completed a little sooner.

Only five more chapters to go.

Won't betray your dreams.

Next chapter: Visited His Grave at Night


	5. Night Spent Visiting his Grave

Chapter 5: Night Spent Visiting His Grave

Don't own Oregairu or Watchmen

8man's Journal, October 16, 2035

Theatre Road: Wonder Woman's breasts draped across movie posters and several displays made sexually frustrated man-children and horny virgin teenagers excited. Having new material to recycle their wet dreams and adult fantasies had them salivating like dogs in heat. People discover new ways to embarrass themselves every night. Slowed my pace, carefully manoeuvred myself through these living-breathing litters loitering across shady corners and every sidewalk and used my peripheral vision to sneak a peek at this Amazon warrior princess in all her heavy chest plated glory. She was engaged in arm to arm combat against a spy, a red haired beauty clad in black leather, code named Black Widow. Action seems to be taking place in a mud pit, both are dripping wet, covered in mire and muck. One has her armour dishevelled, almost slipping off and the other had her skin tight outfit shredded at various promiscuous places. Both are using their respective weapons in a rather creative manner. Never knew lassos and garrotte-wires could do such things. Learnt something new today, almost made me laugh upon noticing the title: Avengers: Cry for Justice. Cry for pleasure more like it. Forgive my attempts at exibiting crude humour but under all this disillusionment lies a man and needless to say all mans are pigs. All women around the globe can attest to that. However disrespecting our otaku culture is something shameful. They are harmless enough people who have found alternative avenues to exist in a cruel world ruled by riajuus. My sympathise, but blowing them up hardly helps. A lot of mad bombers had a go and all it did was kill a lot of innocent civilians. Hence, let them rule their little imaginary kingdoms and hope one day they will realise thier folly and kill themselves by jumping out of a tall skyscraper. Keep your fingers crossed my fellow otakus and till then stop drooling over gravity defying breasts.

Of course telling them is futile. Men refuse to listen to sound advice. Source: Me.

Left these nerds alone and walked past booze hounds exiting a bar, carrying empty bottles and reeking of destitution. Many get seduced by this mistress in a bottle, swayed by her taste, sloshing away their secrets upon her on promises of intoxication and hoping an oncoming hangover to show mercy next morning.

Promises like these are meant to be broken.

Cognac and single malt whiskey from foreign lands, displaying French love and American love, amongst our humble sake, showcased Japanese love for happy hours. Dearly missed my first love… Maxx Coffee in yellow cans…was forbidden from drinking them anymore. Saki Kawasaki facilitated my breakup with Maxx Coffee, said she was worried about my chances of becoming a diabetic. Think she was getting back at me for making her quit cigarettes. No matter. Both of us lost our only love. Life is bitter why should, coffee be any different? Refrained from entering bar and kept moving ahead. Had a good reason, heard ruckus from inside, slurred curses and garbled swear words. Bar fight begins in:

1.

2.

3.

Ducked at last moment and missed a flying chair from flooring me across pavement. Watched said chair crash onto a busy street and create problems from drivers high on road rage. Not currently on duty, expect men in uniform to follow up and dilute this situation from becoming an embarrassment but know, this is asking too much. At night, a city bears her soul to its denizens and confesses her sins to those corrupt and lost.

I am both.

Aware of my origins and familiar with my end, moving forward is my only escape. Cowards are brave in their own mind. Understanding changes in wind and adapting likewise are virtues. Of course compromise is always an option to them. Everyone ends up happy after they make a compromise.

Biggest lie ever told like how accepting death as a comprise.

Never. Not me.

Death should be a final escape but it awakens many business opportunities for those currently diagnosed as living. Many make millions running love hotels like a chain of McDonalds. Special discounts on tennis themed suites are their way of paying homage to Totsuka.

Wonderful

Oscar Wilde once said imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness. Wondering about chances, of pimps and prostitutes, knowing this particular quote made by a great literary mind. Chances seem slim. Dyeing their hair silver, dressing them in tennis outfits and making them act and pretend to be him, only to make love and earn money by the hour is not flattering at all. Worked in Vice before making switch to Homicide, should give them a call about latest developments taking place in skin trade.

Saw hippies and addicts in back allies, dealing recreational drugs for raw cash. Prescription drugs and non-prescription drugs, all are available from these walking, talking, cussing, human pharmacies. College dropouts and juvenile delinquency take their pick. Should have Narco pay them a visit to check their cash registers.

Night is young, thinking ahead, after cemetery awaits my fateful reunion, can't wait to meet Tobe. He is in for a surprise. Lot has changed. Totsuka is dead. I am a sergeant and am currently in-charged with solving his case. Hate change and now he will too.

Thought about theories regarding his involvement in a nationwide conspiracy on way to cemetery. He could know the truth behind Totsuka's death. He could lie. Have his little revenge on me for messing up his chances of confessing to Ebina, back in high school. Everyone holds onto a grudge. He has spent his remedial life inside bars and waterholes. Never sober, another victim of reality. But he has to know something and making him spill his secrets is my primary objective for tonight, correction my secondary objective. First pay respect to a dead high school friend, then give near death experiences to an unfriendly high school classmate, then what? If everything is a lie then logic dictates immigrating to an uncharted island close to the Caribbean. Have to make arrangements, buy tickets and hope Saki Kawasaki believes me. Once she is on board everything will be fine. She can convince others, Komachi, Keika, Taishi, maybe also Tsurumi.

Puzzling myself.

At present none of them are at risk, better keep them safe and never try getting them killed like Totsuka. So many questions have to be kept in mind. Not many answers to go around. Everything is in disrepair. Insoluble. Not a glimmer of hope, not a promise of life.

Now about to enter land of the dead.

Exit stage right.

/

Not much security cover at night, easily entered premises by scaling a wall without falling unlike my foxy kohai. Inside gravesite, all stone monuments stood erect in neat rows, names of departed engraved, stone lanterns extinguished, flowers dry and incense sticks, now ash.

Walked on a bridge of light emanating from my trustee torch and found his final resting place. Totsuka is sleeping well, sleeping and dreaming for eternity, covered in a blanket of white roses. Paid my respects quietly and without any fuss, not like he would expect anything different from me, he knew me too well. Asked for forgiveness once again and promised to keep his widow safe till she fulfils all her responsibilities before leaving for abroad. Chiba has become a bitter memory for her, she made me understand quite clearly, with unshed tears in her eyes. Hopefully, she will allow me to escort her back to the airport on the day she leaves. Need to have a proper private discussion with her, wondering whether she would call my bluff, a man without a heart wanting a heart to heart is not exactly possible but desperate times call for desperate measures. Like robbing an old grave of a single flower and placing it amongst fresh ones given to my friend.

Lit incense. Might help Totsuka see me better from across and might give me a glimpse of heaven. After death, expect pits of hell to swallow me whole, heavenly stairs will forever be beyond my reach. Many regrets, no redemption, a sorry existence. Apologies again for my inability to separate friendship from dirty police work. Modern day gravestones have barcodes embedded in them. Took picture of the tag using my cell phone and perused through several details. Number of times this tag has been scanned was exponential. Noticed time stamps of several familiar names and put them in one group. According to data, Shiromeguri-senpai, Yukinoshita Haruno and Hiratsuka sensei came together. Read almost no interval amongst their visits. Good for them. One is a doctor, another a therapist. Bringing a cancer patient along seems practically normal to them.

At least they came.

Found no mention of Yuigahama and Miura. Need them but everyone says they are dead. Keep hoping to prove otherwise. Both are key individuals involved with the Hayama-Yukinoshita nexus. Their deaths would cause ripples, make headlines. Not everything can be brushed under the carpet. Like Tobe every secret rears their ugly head at times of tragedy.

Found his address from Isshiki, he was perverted enough to give her his number and stupid enough to ask her to pay him a visit for a scandalous late night interview. Saved Isshiki from Tobe but who will save Tobe from me?

No one.

There was no one to save Totsuka either.

Saika Totsuka. Born in the year 2000. Spent twenty years playing tennis in a professional capacity and was dubbed Prince Djoker by worldwide media. Hate his tabloid nick name. He put a smile on everyone without ever trying to be a comedian. His death was unexpected. Died October 10, 2035 and buried on a Sunday morning.

Thinking about his death cropped up inner turmoil regarding circumstances expected of my own demise. What happened to him? He had many friends, but in the end, he ended up with me, alone at night, standing vigil on his grave. He led a life without causing any conflict.

Then why, after death, are his followers causing chaos and anarchy in his name?

Why are prostitutes dressing up as him?

Why are love hotels giving discount on tennis themed rooms?

Why is his death a golden opportunity to make a quick buck?

What will happen to me? Led an entire life surrounded in conflict, had no time to play nice and made no effort to make friends. When I die, will there be a grave? Not likely. An unmarked grave awaits me, maybe a pair of cement shoes and a spot in an ocean bed, courtesy of Yakuza. They learned a thing or two from their American brethren in a foreign exchange scheme. Perhaps a serial killer would make a good barbeque out of me.

Regardless, no roses for me.

My life of violence will end violently, expect gore and bloodshed. Came without flowers, will be gone without flowers. Hope Totsuka understands. Flowers leave a lasting smell, can't interrogate Tobe properly if my suit smells like roses after my visit to Totsuka. He might get a funny idea. Need to scare him, hence no flowers tonight. Would have been no incense too, had it not been for Saki Kawasaki.

She had no business staying awake this late. Everyone in our household was already asleep. Komachi and Keika-chan went to bed straight after dinner. Not unnatural. Taishi Kawasaki looked over a few files before turning in for the night. He has developed this habit of his after he became a detective. What a show off.

Expected Saki Kawasaki to follow routine. She should have been asleep. Unfortunately she had other ideas. She stayed awake to catch me. Ah, foiled again by a woman's intuition. Caught before my evil plans could be set to motion, worst villain, right? Of course villainy never quits. No rest for the wicked, they say. Had to find a way out, applied my methods. Despicable right? No joke, only lies. Told her, was serious about paying Totsuka a visit, night is best, cherish privacy.

Not completely untrue, only omitted details about next visit.

She believed. Innocent are gullible, taken advantage quite easily. Believed my words but told me to wait a moment. Saw her heading inside. My opportunity to leave presented itself and my nature urged me to take advantage and leave. But my feet refused to move an inch. Never knew Saki Kawasaki held such sway over me. After everything, leaving without an explanation felt unthinkable, a stain in my conscience I am not willing to have. Waited patiently. Silently.

She came back. On her hands saw a couple of incense sticks and a lighter. Almost forgot about those. Going out, breaking in, disturbing graves and forgot most important props needed to pay respect. Worst friend, right? She carefully tucked these necessary items into my hands then apologized for not having any flowers at our home. Her delicate fingers brushed mine and tried to read my calluses. Her eyes at night looked afraid. Felt terrible. Of course she read my mind. Only she can, sometimes. Saved by woman's intuition, again. She cleared my doubts, some at least. She was afraid for me, not from me.

Big difference. Only one that matters.

She pleaded to me to stay safe, said she was afraid some ghosts might kill me. Gave her a tiny laugh meant to be reassuring. Meeting a ghost might actually be pleasant. Perhaps he might reveal what happens to men after they die. Of course dying by the hands of a ghost seems farfetched. I will be killed by a mortal man. Not tonight but someday. Expect nothing else. Happily lied and promise my safe return. Might help her sleep tonight. She deserves it. Watched her head inside when she thought I left. Found peace, knowing she was safe.

Told Totsuka a secret

"I love her."

Truth was unbearable to hear aloud. Sat down, cross legged on dirty ground, ran a hand through fresh soil. Hands got covered in ink and blanket of white roses on his grave turned into empty pages of my journal and began my entry:

"Totsuka will keep mum. Dead man tells no tell. A little late for him to take this secret to his grave but he understands. I am always a little slow on the uptake in understanding my feelings and emotions. Have spent decades believing, never to have them and now realising, once again how wrong I am. That's why she deserves someone better. Someone, anyone other than me is far more suitable.

She deserve happiness, can't give her something I don't have.

She deserves a good bed, can't share mine.

Not allowed to die in bed of old age, surrounded by my children and grandchildren, with a beautifully aged wife, holding my hand and watching me take my last breath.

There will be no tomorrow for me, where caressing the beauty spot under her right eye makes her wake up beside me and then allowing me to gently touch her swollen belly, carrying another life, life of a child, our child.

Not real, will never be real.

Something wrong inside me, broken and damaged, a monster of logic trapped in cage, left to gnaw at the unbreakable bars and resilient shackles, which keeps me away from insanity and chips away at my happiness.

Remembering an old high school essay, said I wanted to be a bear in order to escape pack mentality of herbivores. Bears hibernate, sleep away troubled winters, should have been perfect. Are these violent urges of mine turning me into an animalistic bear and making me into something I truly hate. All this thinking, writhing, struggling and agonizing over my futile search for something genuine came to naught. Genuine never existed in this real world. Yukinoshita Haruno was right all along. Wasted away my life searching for an ideal and now looking back, everything precious is lost to me. Another regret waiting to be paid, all my regrets are important. Consequences of doing what I had to do are piling up. At the middle of the third decade of the twentieth century came my time to reveal my face and reflect back.

No one else knows what I see, they think my loneliness is a symptom of rare mental disease, but I understand everything and treat them all with seriousness. Not time for a joke. Dead fish eyes saw everything, men wearing expensive suits and masks, women hiding behind makeup and facades and society cracking up listening to a sick joke.

Remember telling Totsuka a joke once: A middle management executive has to take on some sport, by his doctor's orders, so he decides to play tennis. After a couple of weeks his secretary asks him how he's doing. 'It's going fine,' the manager says. 'When I'm on the court and I see the ball speeding towards me, my brain immediately says, 'To the corner! Back hand! To the net! Smash! Go back!' 'Really? What happens then?' the secretary asks. 'Then my body says, 'Who? Me? You must be kidding!''

What a horrible joke but both of us laughed back then. Two high school friend one out of the game because of tennis elbow and other out of the force because of a sprained shoulder.

Remembered his friendship, earlier made arrangements to keep his widow safe and now leaving cemetery, for my next appointment.

Sound bugles,

Play on war drums.

An uphill battle approaches.

Curtain rises

/

A/N: Almost felt criminal writing this chapter that's why this is so short. Seriously man, they should frame the panels of 'Rorschach's Journal October 16, 1985' and put them in a museum next to the Monalisa. messing with it felt just wrong, however this had to be done. I tried keeping it close to the original but I had to make this about 8man too.

Thank you everyone for reviewing, following and faving. I love reading your reviews, I know there are not many but seriously you guys, I have nothing to complain. The guys who review this project of mine, they don't leave one liners. I mean seriously, they love writing long reviews about this and I just love reading them over and over again. You guys always keep me motivated and now there are only four more chapters left to go.

Keep reviewing

Won't betray your dreams.

Next chapter: Another Dead and Another Hiding


	6. Another Dead and Another Hiding

Chapter 6: Another Dead and Another Hiding

Don't own Oregairu and Watchmen.

8man's Journal, October 18, 2035

Left Tobe.

He is in need of medical attention and therapy sessions. Tossed him an icepack and warned him against contacting Shiromeguri-senpai and Yukinoshita Haruno. He knows better than to cross me by now, took me only two visits to enlighten him. Three broken ribs, two torn ligaments and a concussion later he acknowledged my proffered hand of companionship. He was wary about those brass knuckles of mine. Told him to get a tetanus shot just to stay safe. And they say there is no kindness left in this world.

Meet me. You will get a proper display of kindness. Police brutality is overrated. He will live. Made sure to stop bleeding, closed most open wounds. He can walk, use his bathroom and dress properly by himself. Destroyed his stash of contraband after finding them lying around in his hotel room. They made a wonderful bonfire.

Visiting Tobe is therapeutic.

After two sessions almost feel there is no need to keep my future appointment with Yukinoshita Haruno. She would find other distractions, might be hard for her but she always does. Tobe can take a beating, a former soccer player knows how to kick and use his elbows. He is stronger than me and bulkier but he is an amateur when it comes to dealing out pain. He learned a thing or two from me by now like using his brain.

After my first visit, he changed his location, moved to a safer place to escape from my evil clutches. Tracer on his belongings keeps me updated about his current whereabouts. He is yet to discover them in his spare clothing. Expected him to find them by now or at least grow a tiny bit suspicious about having being tracked. After two visits, at two separate locations he should know his movements are being monitored by me. Unfortunately, he had no idea about my reach, about my haunts and about my connections. He might never know, not like he will learn anything from me. Our communication is mostly limited- ask him questions, force him to answer, threaten him, make good on my threats and then listen.

Listening is tedious. After my questionable methods of appealing to his inner humanity, he resorts to grunting a lot. On my third visit, remember to put a bucket before him to spit blood and broken teeth. Should help him speak better, his jaw is intact, he should have no complaints. He is a whiner. One would think a former professional soccer player would have a little more metal in him. Like expected he is a cocktail of various street level drugs and foreign alcoholic beverages. Muscle enhancement drugs, antidepressants and cigars, appeal to his charm and add to his magnetic personality.

Women fly around him like flies over dog poop. Of course, most women I know have better standards. Ebina realised this way early. Her request makes sense now but she refrained from mentioning anything back then to safeguard her doomed clique. After high school everything ended for them but they kept pretending and now everyone is paying their price.

Isshiki is dead, Hayama is off-grid and Totsuka is sidelined.

Everything has consequences, nothing is free and life is a bad dream.

Maybe to me, maybe to everyone

/

Wiped shoes before leaving but gloves are covered in blood. Numerous homeless people huddle around a few empty drum in various back alleys, fill them with filth and rubbish, anything they could get their hands on and then light a match. Fire burns away everything, causes warmth and comfort. Like arsonists, they are attracted to flames. Wished everything would burn off. Sustained a few injuries myself during past skirmish, was a victim of burns once, but watching these embers climb and spread their sheltering wings around hobos and vagabonds made me forgive this unruly discovery of man. Flames are blameless. We burn because our inbred attraction towards destruction finds release in gasoline and matchsticks. Children play with fire, never listen to their parents and serve life without parole. Blame everyone, blame no one, changes nothing. We end up where we started, back to square one but we keep fooling ourselves and clamour for change. Whenever something changed, nothing changed. An optical illusion, our mind playing tricks, mask and facades making normalcy outdated.

A sergeant disguised himself like a hobo and tortured a law abiding citizen for information, sounds wrong anyway you hear it, but you put names and draw faces over caricatures and behold Hikigaya Hachiman did right by him and Tobe Kakeru did right by himself. Nothing is worth dying for. He chose to live, gave up information and now he is nursing his injuries instead of getting fed by a tube in a prison hospital. When everything is over he might find himself a jail cell next to Hayama. Of course finding him is another thing.

He fled, cowards are smart like that. Knew he would pull something like this, took measures, unfortunately never expected having Isshiki shot and killed by a sniper. Had a good plan, RumiRumi was in on it but unexpected no one thought of taking an assassination attempt into account. There are limits to my paranoia. Shocking, right?

Our plan or more correctly plans of worldwide media and every newspaper channel around Chiba was to get an exclusive interview with almost anyone involved with the 'Totsuka Tragedy'. Never understood juvenile antics of media to rhyme everything but made no comments, had other important things on my mind like finding a way to use this national uproar to my advantage.

Police force was able to hold down fort and eliminate ensuing chaos and anarchy caused by fans and followers of Totsuka. His widow made an appeal to her late husband's fan requesting peace and after she got results she made the unfortunate decision to have other join in on her endeavour and then everyone wanted to grab a piece of the limelight and made a mockery out of everything. Totsuka should he happy he isn't around to see this, wish I was so lucky. Safety measure fell on my shoulders after schedules of interview were set. Looked over time table and watching all this names gave me an idea.

Added Hayama to this list

Now all was upto him. He had been involved with his funeral and common sense dictates he be here and participate in this mockery on live television. He was requested, more likely begged to give an interview and as a result he locked himself in Falcon Facilities. But a crowd of reporters and cameraman, around a supposedly secret science division, financed by our government, filming everything and televising live for all the whole world to see was raising security concerns. Not my concern, this was way above my pay grade. For a short time Hayama had all the privacy of a fly trapped in a bell jar. However after media began to annoy his wife, begging her to convince her husband, Yukinoshita put her foot down on Hayama's tender parts and threw him to the vultures, at least according to my imagination.

Of course media spared no one. Tsurumi almost quit five times in a single day when she was asked to conduct this freak show of an interview only because she went to Sobu High and not because she was a fine reporter who could chew out big names, expose them on live television and push them into a corner after trapping them in their own words. She never admits it but she learned this from me and she thanked me by making me give an interview alongside Hayama.

And they wondered why everything went straight to hell afterwards.

Hayama and me, Hikigaya and him, see?

My brain has trouble placing our names side by side and Tsurumi wanted to have us both to give an interview together. Makes sense like shooting someone in the head to see what happens. Happens what happens, bullet enters, bullet exits and person dies, but no Tsurumi wanted to experience it and wouldn't you know she was talking to a sergeant in therapy, a certified screw loose. Now she would be unharmed, I have no desire to shoot any living person much less Tsurumi, who everyone agrees, is a gender bended, mini version of me but her prized moped may not be so lucky. Hayama had nothing left of his limousine to tow after I took my revenge on him for gassing me, compared to that a moped is child's play for a despicable person like me. Many a homeless kids would love to steal spare part of a well kept moped after being done with a limousine.

Tsurumi might have understood the look in my eyes, bode anything but good for her prized possessions and hence she gave a better argument to have me on board this media circus. Her manipulative skills are nominal at best. She is a good girl, friends with Keika-chan and after hanging around her she can never become truly evil. Good for her, she has escaped my stench but my level of thinking matches her. She will outgrow it in time but for now this was a good thing.

She would be confronting Hayama, head on in an interview and having me with her would be immensely helpful, at least according to her. Gave my support, least I could do and fed her my plans as well.

Gave her my list of questions to ask Hayama, she read them and agreed to ask at least some of them. By now anything seemed better than nothing. Having Hayama before live television, making him answerable and holding him accountable is tough task. Trust Tsurumi to make me proud. She never needs to employ my despicable means, hide my secrets from her, afraid she might be ashamed of me. She is another person who calls me Hachiman. She started calling me by my first name since she was in elementary school and never stopped. She is someone other than my immediate makeshift family I hold dear and hence her safety is my responsibility.

Let her down.

Interview was interesting, progress was made but Hayama had means to cut it short. Ebina was there and when she realised tides had begun to change she made an excuse which helped Hayama end his interview by sighting various emergencies and threats to his well being.

As sergeant my duty was to stay by his side and escort him. He had protection detail around him but somehow Isshiki came out of nowhere and confronted him. She holds a grudge against him for not taking her seriously and rejecting her confession from when both of them were in Sobu High. Of course being affiliated with the paparazzi, now she had a license to bully people like him. Not even I was spared. She was there, having all attention onto herself, every camera, every mike one her.

She pointed her finger accusingly on Hayama.

Opened her mouth,

And ate a bullet

Chaos broke.

Her brains splattered over a nearby wall and her blood spilled over the sidewalk. She was dead before she fell flat on the ground in a motionless pile of mush.

I watched her die before me.

I watched Hayama escape.

I killed her.

Memories are becoming painful, physical embodiments of aching hands and shoulders. Tobe took a lot out of me. His blood and my sweat are evidence of our struggle. Visiting him over a gap of only twenty four hours seemed unwise but after Isshiki died and knowing what he planned to do with her had I not intervened made me listen to my lesser demons. Regret nothing. He got what he deserved.

Disposed off any physical evidence by placing them to burn in a flaming drum and followed standards set by homeless hobos. Warmed myself, my hands mostly, they have done horrible things, wish I could burn them but no, self harm is pitiful. Why take away this opportunity from my would-be assassin.

Despite what everyone says, Hayama was not a target. Snipers rarely miss, conditions were superb for sniping and distance between both of them was short but noticeable from behind a scope. Isshiki was the target, Hayama was only the smokescreen. Isshiki had her share of enemies but no one who would go to such lengths as to hire a sniper to kill her. She was about to accuse Hayama of something and this probably killed her. Hayama killed her and now he is taking advantage of this situation by calling this an attempt on his life and hiding in his fortress. Smart, but how much longer can he hide. He cannot leave the country. Or can he? Maybe he has already left. Military take him and those threats of his seriously. They might have transferred him outside of the country. If that happened there is nothing I can do. Desperation is gnawing me from inside, chewing me and leaving me bare. Orange flames show bright white light and leaking blood from received cuts provides me with ink. Journal entry commences:

"Late night, away from home, finding comfort amidst homeless and flames. October is cold, bruises hurt bad. Tobe should feel worse than me. Says he knows nothing, but he has to. He came here, right this very moment, after Totsuka died, and he made no arrangements to leave like others. He is a part of Hayama and his conspiracy. After two sessions he is giving up useless details, mentions about miracle drugs and addled fantasies. Pipe dreams mostly. Don't know what to believe. Fighting him made me feel savage and free. Isshiki had answers, she should have come to me. Regardless of her career choice, she could receive my protection. A senpai protects his kohai, at all cost. Made a failure once again. Tobe knows nothing about any assassination attempt. Believe him. His role is more of a footman than anything in this grand scheme of things. He is simply a tool to be used and then thrown out. His refusal to contact police about my visits makes me certain. He is involved in this somehow and he is the only surviving link who can be reached without making future appointment. Yukinoshita and Ebina are far away and heavily protected. After latest development, trying to forcible enter their respective dwelling places might give them a good excuse to kill me. Of course both of them wish me no harm, hopefully, but Hayama pays all the security guards. He would probably write one of his guards a blank cheque, to shoot me dead and take the blame and they would happily follow his orders. Need to stay clear of them, and keep my head down for the moment. Hayama's involvement with military raises difficult questions but for now only need to find peace in nightmares. Need to sleep, walking with eyes closes, trying to find my way back, but this pavement, this back alley looks inviting. Dressed like a hobo, sleep like a hobo. Wake up later, read about more developments in newspapers, understand-

Beeping, Beeping, Beeping.

Recognize ringtone, feel vibrations.

No, no, no, no

Flames are dulling, white living light become red and orange once again

Black, inkish-blood turning back into red cuts and injuries

Pages lost no ink around.

My mind is not inside my mind anymore. Feel restless and uncomfortable. Answer disturbance. Pick up phone.

"Hello"

Person on other end recognizes my voice but she hesitates.

"Hello Hikigaya? Where are you? Its way past midnight and you're not yet home. You're making everyone worry."

"Everyone is asleep."

She stays silent for a moment. She is unable to recognize what she has done. Disturbing me in my journal is a sacrilege. This is another me, no one knows this me.

"Are you alright? You sound funny?"

"…"

"Are you ignoring me ya lazy bum!"

"Stop shouting Kawasaki."

Spoken with bone chilling coldness

No answer, no nagging. Hear static she is on line, but she is quite. Stunned maybe. Shocked her. Despicable. Made her afraid again. Horrible.

Need to snap back.

Need to be Hikigaya Hachiman

Monster of logic return to your cage

Heard door shutting in my mind. Some semblance of normalcy regained. Engage conversation. Top priority, sound convincing and stop her from worrying. Apology good

"Sorry Kawasaki" Effort. Need more effort. "Sorry Saki"

She is worried.

"Hachiman! Hachiman! Stay with me! Hello! Hello!"

She says my name. She says my name.

Stay with her she says. Sleep deprived mind jumbling up meaning, taking things out of context. Nightmares, don't you dare give me dreams. Have enough false hope and betrayed dreams to last a life time. Let me talk to her like I normally do.

"That's it! I am calling Taishi out of bed. Hachiman, tell me where you are?"

Right now, right now, right-

"That won't be necessary Kawasaki, your bug of a brother needs his little beauty sleep otherwise he would keep bugging me all day tomorrow."

She listens carefully and then she sighs in relief.

"You are talking normally again Hachiman"

"According to you guys, I never talk normal. Are you saying you guys make fun of me for no reason? That's cruel, you know?"

"Stop playing dumb. You were not fine a moment ago. Tell me what happened? Or I swear, everyone in the house will know something is up."

Now she is returning back to her old self.

Scary self

"D-don't do that. I promise nothing happened. I was just a bit tired and falling asleep on the pavement."

Oh definitely wrong thing to say.

"You were doing what?" She asks quietly but sternly.

"Nothing"

My ears are picking up certain sounds and movements, closing doors, opening doors, closets-

"What are you doing Kawasaki?"

"Getting dressed. You don't want anyone else getting up and that's fine. But I'm coming to pick you up from whatever back alley pavement you're lazing off at. Tell me where you are right now!"

She is leaving the safety of her home at the middle of the night to come and find me.

"Are you crazy? Don't leave the house!"

"What are you gonna do? Stop me. You are not even here and like ya said everyone else is sleeping. Good luck waking them up."

"No Kawasaki. You don't understand."

"I understand fine. I installed that tracking app on your phone, the one you had on every one of us. I don't need you to tell me your location. I can find it on my own."

Problem solve.

All I have to do is-

"Don't even think about deleting that app Hikigaya!"

Ok women can read minds. I'm putting this on public records.

"I wasn't going to"

"Uh-huh. Just wait for me, I will get a cab or something. I'm already dressed."

She is about to get outside.

She could be killed.

Snipers on every roof

"No!"

My scream disturbed the homeless but not like they have anything to complain. Saki Kawasaki heard me shout and she waited for me to continue.

"Don't leave the house Kawasaki. After Isshiki"- Difficult, so difficult,-"I don't want that happening to anyone else. I killed her. I don't want to kill you. I-"

"You didn't kill her Hachiman. She was shot by a sniper. It was not your fault."

She never finds fault in anyone.

"Regardless, Kawasaki I don't want you leaving the house. If you leave and something happens to you"-I would never forgive myself- "your brother, Keika-chan, Komachi, none of them would forgive me."

She gives a dry chuckle.

"Only them right, Hikigaya?"

Felt a sense of mockery embedded in her question. She had been calling me by my first name till now. Currently she reverts back to a last name basis.

Good. Hate change.

Needed to give a response

"Tsurumi also"

She says nothing else and leaves me to brand myself a coward once again.

"Fine then. I won't leave the house. Ya happy?"

"Extremely"

"Then promise me, you will come back safe."

"I promise"

Lying is easy.

"I will wait up for ya."

Now that is unnecessary and problematic. Have to think of a better way to explain my disguise. Do people attend cosplays well past-midnight dressed as hobos. Highly doubtful.

"You don't need to."

Now she should be angry.

"This is the least I can do."

She is about to hang up but my ears catch a barely inaudible whisper which escapes her lips almost as an afterthought

"Come back safely"

Now she has burdened me with the heavy responsibility of staying safe. An incomplete entry in my journal, that's a first. Might cause problems in future, need to take certain steps to avoid this ever happening again.

But for now I pocket my phone because for tonight I'm done.

Sleep waits me at home

And a certain Saki Kawasaki

/

A/N: Let's play a game. Let's see whether I can update chapters faster than you guys can review.

I'm not kidding I wrote this today while trying something new. The last part reads differently because I thought, why not try an incomplete journal entry where Hachiman gets disturbed and this is how it turned out. His speech pattern is especially choppy at the end but this is by design not faults in grammar and lazy writing. Like I said, trying something new. Food for thoughts guys.

Won't betray your dreams


	7. Wrenching Hearts Open by Crowbars

Chapter 7: Wrenching Hearts Open by Crowbars

Don't own Oregairu and Watchmen.

8man's Journal, October 20, 2035

Woke late, fell asleep wearing glasses and was relieved to find them undamaged. Was wearing clothes from yesterday, they smell, have no time for laundry but felt uncomfortable asking anyone else to do it for me. Komachi will tease me, Keika-chan will probably ruin them by mistake and asking Saki Kawasaki is out of the question. Feel too embarrassed to have her wash my clothes and underwear. Not happening, hence apply deodorant and cologne. They don't mix together. Bothers my nose and give away my position when tailing someone.

Troublesome.

Felt killing intent upon noticing Taishi Kawasaki this morning. Not unnatural but lately those have been less and far in between. Today a butter knife looked like a good murder weapon. Of course he sensed his impending doom and gave me a questioning look.

Took out my handkerchief, rubbed it over his white shirt collar and showed him red lipstick marks. Like an idiot he looked at Komachi for help and gave away his partner in crime. Komachi was about to receive another lecture, been a while since she had one, maybe, should try again explaining her about the bird and the bees, would be painful for both of us but she really needs to retake those lessons. My advance towards Komachi came to an unfortunate halt when Saki Kawasaki moved in front of her. She shielded her from me and gave me a look that clearly spoke of divine retribution and righteous fury. She was smiling a rather cruel smile which bore acute resemblance to mine. This is wrong. She is copying me and making me soft. She is supposed to be on my team, older siblings preserving innocence of their younger siblings. She gave Komachi the 'talk' when she felt like she was ready to ride that slippery slope.

Pervert. Pervert alert. Should go kill yourself Hachiman. No this is Taishi Kawasaki. He got these ideas in your head, imagining his older sister in a police uniform, your police uniform.

…holding your gun, barrel in your mouth, tears in her eyes.

Good reminder. Felt comfortable getting back to my unlovable self hating and self loathing self. While Saki Kawasaki educated my sister, Taishi Kawasaki found himself learning only three important lessons from me. One was practicing abstinence, and then there were medical procedures involved in getting a vasectomy, thanks again Shiromeguri-senpai for having us on such a short notice, and finally solving a police investigation where the murderer behind a sting of killings was a scorned female serial killer who liked castrating his male victims, which in no way was sexist but a valuable lesson for piggish men to learn to respect women. Gave Taishi Kawasaki photos of victims to commemorate him solving such a tough case and watching him lose sleep over them made me sure he would never take advantage of Komachi and what they will have will be genuine.

Don't know what people think of my means and methods but I did something good. They are in a happy relationship, Taishi plans to marry her, he is just figuring out a few details like buying a suitable ring and a proper way to propose because any idiot can go down on his knees.

Other night when Kawasaki was waiting for me to return, she somehow lost her ring. It was a family heirloom, belonged to her late mother. Light were on and she was looking for them everywhere and trying to be helpful I lend her a hand. She was thankful of course and she began searching for it under her sofa. She probably dropped it there, when she was fiddling with it, a bad habit of her, she takes it off her fingers and then puts it on again, something out of anxiousness and worry which then was directed towards me for not coming back early. Of course my way of apologizing was better than expected. She prefers actions than words and hence after calculating all possibilities, employing a fraction of my police skills and eliminating most places where she could have already looked at, common sense dictated me to search behind a heavy armoire. Budged it a little with my shoulders, then dropped on both knees and found it quite easily without even trying to overexert myself.

Solved her case

Found her mother's ring

And then put it on her finger.

Both of us looked stupid.

She towered over me when I was down on both knees before her. She bent her back a little, lowered her hand and placed her palm before me. Instead of giving her the ring, like expected, out of sleep- deprivation my mind decided to help her out a little more.

She was taken aback by my actions.

She was standing

I was down on both knees

And she allowed me to put her mother's ring on her dainty little finger.

Repeating myself again

Our actions meant nothings. She looked flustered and her cheeks turned red. She tried to say something, opened her mouth. Both of us are terrible in speaking to one another. One of us had to ruin this imaginary dramatic moment.

Saved her the trouble

Lazily got up, facing her, then yawned without closing my mouth and without saying anything else, not even a little 'goodnight' went to my room and closed the door on her shocked and flustered face. She said nothing else and allowed me to seek comforts amongst nightmares.

Slept in

And now here are.

Skipping breakfast, everything had tomatoes in them, my compliments to the chef. Saki Kawasaki said she was in the mood for tomatoes, no one dared question her. Obviously breakfast was uncomfortable. Me leaving, made matters worse. Everyone misunderstood. Of course, my reasons had justifications.

Today Sagami leaves, don't know why I keep calling her Sagami in my mind. She married Totsuka, took his name but now she is his widow. Is that it? My tendency to hate change, maintaining status quo, refusal to find love when she shares breakfast with me every day, for over a decade.

My hubris lacks originality.

/

Checked emails in diner. Zaimokuza sent over a few illustrations for his latest light novel, high in fan service. He wanted my thoughts, sent them and added a few more ideas. A good change of pace does wonders, thinking about police work all the time is redundant, have to entertain other ideas to find clarity amidst fog of indecisiveness.

Tobe is not an option. He needs to heal first, find another safe place to hide, will visit him later, some other day. Cancelled next appointment with Haruno Yukinoshita, was serious about it, never called, never said anything. She shouldn't be expecting anything else from me.

Ebina is currently left in charge of Falcon Facilities. She has skills and qualifications, more than capable to run things for the time being. Yukinoshita Yukino said her husband left country to look over his interests abroad. When she made a statement to the press, knew she was lying. She never speaks for her husband.

Hayama is in the country.

Maybe he is in Chiba.

Have to find him and find him alone. Using police resources is unthinkable. They will think me mad and throw me in an asylum. White straitjackets will spoil my look. Need everything in black and gray for white leave stains. In dinner ordered omelette rice and read another email, again from Zaimokuza. He says not to visit him anytime soon, says Ebina has moved in with him, and having me there would make her uncomfortable. Wonder whether she knows he sent me this email. Zaimokuza can be stupid sometimes, sending me something like this makes me interested. Ebina is an interesting figure in all this, a liaison between Hayama and Yukinoshita. Back in high school she was a part of his clique, whereas Yukinoshita was with me and Yuigahama. However she was common denominator between Miura and Yuigahama back then and maybe now. But she is careful, always knew behind all those fujoshi antics of her lied an intelligent mind. Might risk my friendship with Zaimokuza but my need to talk with her is rising. She is moving out of her fortress, moving in with Zaimokuza in nowhere close to the heavy security and protection detail she was always guaranteed by keeping up pace with Hayama, being his personal assistant, she earned more money than me. Of course she lived alone, no love, no time for relationship. Always thought this thing with Zaimokuza was a fling, might not be entirely wrong even now, but she is taking a chance. Should take a chance myself and question her, not like Tobe, nowhere near as extreme. Zaimokuza will be there, by her side and I will be there under the pretence of looking after a friend. Good excuse. Zaimokuza would believe, Ebina not so much, but after my questioning session, she would grow close to Zaimokuza even more. Expect him to punch me and throw me out. Once again my actions brought to couples together. First it was Totsuka and Sagami, now it will be Zaimokuza and Ebina. Should have considered couples counselling, as an alternative profession instead of shady police work, might have lived longer and had a chance at true happiness

No matter.

Ate omelette rice with ketchup and waited for Sagami to show up.

Mobile is on silent mode.

Making white rice into pages is difficult

Making red ketchup into ink is hard.

Ate quietly and forcibly began writing in my mental journal. Felt completely at unease results of an incomplete entry since last time. Began tentatively:

"Eating out and disturbing local diner. Usual complaints. Not making any progress. Problems at home are cropping up. Saki Kawasaki is causing me trouble. Need to do something, but don't know what. She is looking for something which can never be there. Tired of old excuses. Need to find better ones. Carefully try to stay away from home. Not possible. Delve deeper into case. Possible. Meet Sagami now. She has something to say. She is running academy, check how things are going. Look into other related killings-"

No…

Not good.

Writing mentally in by journal has become problematic. This time around there was no distraction. This mental exercise of mine is causing me problems. Should try later after finished eating.

Took mouthful of rice and swallowed with glass of water.

"-like Ooka and Yamato. Not similar but there might be something missing. Tobe might be holding out. Pay him a visit. Inspect other avenues, streets, abandoned buildings. Might have links to other cases, counterfeiting operations and street drugs seem to have no connection but giving them a look seems nice. When everything is hopeless seek information in muddy shoe prints and study fecal matter of animals. Dirty business-"

Exhuming idiocy. Entries making no sense. Puzzling myself. Need to stop.

Eat in peace and wait for my opportunity.

Something has to happen.

More will die. Nothing I can do.

Only keep those I cherish safe.

Small list

Easy work

Bad breakfast.

/

Ok trying something new again. Breaking journal entries into two. Not much going on. Expect next chapter to have a little more action.

Till then

Review, fav and follow.

Won't betray your dreams.


	8. A Old Tale is Retold

Chapter 8: A Old Tale is Retold

Don't own Oregairu and Watchmen.

8man's Journal, October 22, 2035

Totsuka was first, Isshiki was second and the Yukinoshita sisters were third and fourth respectively. Three dead. One was my friend, one was my kohai, one was my therapist. Totsuka was thrown, Isshiki was shot, Yukinoshita Haruno was poisoned. Yukinoshita Yukino survived. She fought and saved herself. She needed no one. Her fate would have been worse. She was busy while her husband hid abroad. Running her own business ventures, handling matters in Falcon Facilities, giving pointers to Ebina and finally overlooking funeral services of her older sister took most of her time. She was bogged down but she carried her responsibilities and asked no one for help. She has learned to depend on her own self, a painful lesson indeed but now she is free from subjugation and enslavement. Her family expected this from her. Haruno Yukinoshita made herself into her enemy only for her to succeed her. Yukino Yukinoshita won everything by losing everyone. She should be proud. At the peak of Mount Everest there is nothing but snow and Yukinoshita Yukino found her rightful place many decades ago when she married Hayama but only now everyone sees her wearing a crown and carrying a royal sceptre. She is a queen in need of no king, no knight, no courtier and no jester. She rules her kingdom, a sovereign state made up of ghosts and ghouls from her past and at night when a strong wind blows she feels nothing, neither cold nor guilt. Maybe she could teach me a thing or two, would make it easier to sleep at night and come up with a better excuse to not attend anymore funerals. Three funerals are a bit much even for my melancholic self. Accepted Totsuka is dead and said farewell to her widow, may she find peace in her life aboard. A world without a meddling paparazzo and a bullying therapist might do wonders for my physical and psychological wellbeing but knowing they are dead makes me guilty. Their deaths are my fault regardless of what anybody says. Slacked off on security detail, took no precautions to account for sniper activity and shot Isshiki. Likewise skipped last therapy session, neither called nor left a text and poisoned Haruno. A sniper, a poisoner and a sergeant all are equally culpable.

Condition in household is deteriorating.

Placed Saki Kawasaki, Keika Kawasaki and Komachi Hikigaya under house arrest, at least according to them

Nothing near illegal, they are exaggerating. Only visited their respective places of work, met with their respective bosses, explained to them our situation and told them to grant all three women a leave of absence for an indefinite period. Left final decision in their hands and made them chose wisely. Nothing much to chose from, their respective establishments could be under attack at any moment, jeopardising their entire workforce, placing them under threatening situations could cause any disgruntled employee to sue their respective employers and when one case could be filed why not several. Employers, bosses and heads of departments, they all agreed and now, technically, three women are out of their respective jobs. Needless to say they are not exactly happy with my decision. Saki Kawasaki cursed like a sailor, Komachi said she lost faith in her older brother and Keika-chan said she will never forgive me. United we hate, divided we hate is their new motto. They should have them on a tee-shirt and wear it on my funeral. Of course having them all at home made me have a little peace, figuratively speaking. Taking Taishi Kawasaki off the case was a hard decision but safeguarding his sisters and my sister takes priority over everything else. Wanted to place Tsurumi under protection, have her join them but she threatened to go on live television if she so much as sees a traffic police within two yards of her. Told her not to expect any condolence money from me when she dies, she threw a stapler at me. Caught it, threw it out the window and told her to stay safe. Only so much I can do.

Saki Kawasaki slapped me, a hard slap, drew blood. Told her she can hate me all she wants, told her she can wish me dead. She punched me next. No tears, no crying. Helplessness, sadness found form in physical violence. Maybe she was expecting a reaction, maybe she wanted to fight. She is capable, taught Komachi and Keika-chan self defence, gave lessons to Tsurumi also. Her brother learnt basics from her before undergoing proper police training and it can be safely said she gave me a hands on experience on how to take a beating. She is a fighter, a survivor but she shows mercy and believes in compassion. She watched me, waited for me and then left. Our goodbye was silenced. Better. There is no good in goodbye. She can help our younger siblings and remain at home while I take matters into my own hand. We are mere spectators to a tragedy, came to realise this when Yukinoshita Yukino was assaulted in a random back alley.

She went to an opening of an art gallery, same place Taishi Kawasaki wanted to take Komachi. There she bought a painting drawn by her late sister titled 'A bag of cats'. Funny, a psychiatrist who was also a therapist by profession should know a thing or two about not hurting her patients feeling by displaying paintings which run a commentary on their mental health in high class art galleries. Ofcourse Yukinoshita Yukino loves cats, buying them seemed justifiable to her and may be on some hidden level this was her way of keeping something of her late elder sister after they were estranged for over a decade, atleast according to media. However opening gala meant parking problems, her limo was parked a block away and carrying this painting with her slowed her down. She was horrible with directions to begin with and when she chose to take a shortcut and disregarded her safety by entering a dark back alley where bad things might happen to a woman, her luck ran out.

She fought off her attempted assaulter before help arrived but she was a little traumatised. Torn fur coat and broken heels, bite marks, nail marks and dishevelled hair made for an ugly picture. Sugar coating a rape attempt by calling it an assault only encourages these perverts. Of course she wanted discretion but she refused to have me look into her case. Everything looked connected, taking place over a short period of time, all three deaths and now her attempted rape and possible murder but she refused to see any sense and instead opted to have Tamanawa handle her case. She says he will be objective since he has no history with her. Disregarding a jibe at my professional accomplishment, she was clearly traumatised by this ill experience and not thinking clearly. Speaking ill off a colleague is completely acceptable when it is Tamanawa. He will never be able to solve this case while keeping in pace with me and joining every link and connecting every dot of other cases which might lead to this is far too incomprehensible for his tiny little brain. Not even his wife can help him on this and that's saying a lot because Orimoto is far more capable than anyone thinks, well maybe not her husband but that's why she married him instead of anyone else.

Marrying an idiot is easy.

Of course after news of attempted rape and my inability to join in on this investigation, another bad news found its way into my phone. Received a text from Tobe, says he has information and will give it to me if I pay him an astounding amount of money. Extorting me, a guy who is trained to shoot and kill to protect others, a sergeant with mental issues, a patriot who loves Chiba and Japan, who has an overprotective onii-chan mode and secret yandere mode, is not healthy. Smashed mobile out of anger and prepared.

Tobe dies today.

/

Tracer showed his position. He is moving closer and closer to a neighbourhood near Falcon Facilities, maybe he thinks he can be safe there. He is mistaken. My disguise for today is simple yet unsuspecting, black glasses and a cane. Pretending to be blind, shallow and despicable, but there is something far more endearing when this cane will beat the truth out of Tobe before smashing his skull and ending him. His death will be for nothing. After everything killing seems justifiable. Need a release, he is a likable candidate. Have to protect others from me. Gave Saki Kawasaki, taser guns and pepper sprays and told her to give them to the other girls. After Haruno and Yukino their safety comes first. Should give them guns but they don't have a license, that's why Taishi Kawasaki is off the case and their permanent body guard. He will kill to protect and die before something happens to them. He is like me on that particular point, he will keep everyone safe.

No worries.

A good lie to tell myself.

Police have completely stopped unruly fans from creating ruckus in Totsuka's name. Saw them arrest some kid high on drugs babbling about miracles. Near diner saw a mascot, Pan-san the Panda. Hate those, they have my eyes. During my travel was careful to escape traffic cameras. Killing Tobe after torturing him for information is nothing to be advertised. His death is merely necessary. He has information, he wants to extort me, he dies. Simple. Cutting open the goose who lays a golden egg is justifiable to a mad man and currently my psyche evaluation will perhaps not show any method to my madness.

On way, did warm-up exercises. Pimps beating up prostitutes, broken nose, busted lips. Women looked like Saki Kawasaki for some reason. Like I said, going mad. Then they looked like Komachi, Keika and Tsurumi. Definitely going mad. Two prostitutes, having four different faces, all dressed in tennis outfits, all having silver hair. Pimps look drunk and high on drugs, waving a gun around. They paid no heed to me, a blind guy with a cane.

Bumped into one on purpose and immediately found a barrel touching my temple.

Threatening a blind guy after you hurt women, even when they are prostitutes is particularly low. And a man moments away from torturing and killing a high school classmate needs practice to keep the blood flowing.

Disarmed them, drunks held onto their guns like candy bars, maybe from her came the saying taking candy from a baby. Shot both pimps on both knee caps. Four shots fired, two remaining. The two prostitutes looked at me, threw the gun to the one who looked like Saki Kawasaki in my mad brain and then left.

Women are smart, shooting me was futile, a waste of bullets.

Women can finish a job, they are resourceful, they can look after themselves.

At the end of the block, heard two gunshots

Never turned back, already know what happened.

Tobe should know by now what will happen to him.

If not then keep waiting. This neighbourhood is not safe, people don't care, who kills who, safety is an illusion at best and a lie at worst.

Tobe will know this truth by my hands today. Six shots fired, no one arrived, no police, nothing. Everything is silent. Falcon Facilities turns a blind eyes on everything and pretends it is working for the greater good. There is no greater good, only tomorrow and yesterday, and if you are careful there might be a day after yesterday. Planning a future when bodies keep droping like flies is futile.

There is no need to write a journal.

Mental health is not an issue.

Sanity is overrated.

/

A/N: Author bio: My friends say I suffer from a little bit of obsessive compulsive tendencies.

Nothing close to knock, knock, knock (insert name) times three but a little bit especially when I get caught up in something interesting and let me tell you, this project is very interesting.

But on the downside when I get into a project which is very interesting, I find it difficult to leave it before it is completely finished. As a result my other work gets ignored. On the other hand, I double time and release chapters quickly, even though chapters become short, nothing particularly good happen and quality begins to drop. But I will see to it that the project is finished and I will leave nothing incomplete. Just have a little patience with this particular idiosyncrasy of mine and know I am working very quickly.

Final chapter will be uploaded today, maybe tomorrow if I finish writing.

This story is almost finished. Hope everyone had a good read.

Keep reviewing, following and faving.

Won't betray your dreams


	9. Putting Everything in a Letter

Don't own Oregairu and Watchmen.

Chapter 9: Putting Everything in a Letter

Tsurumi Rumi was a fine reporter by any standards but with how things were going she was seriously thinking about quitting her job. People she knew kept dying all around her and the only thing she was asked to do was get enough material to run on prime time. She often wondered why she became a reporter, of course the camera dangling from her neck answered this question for her. She liked taking pictures and when she found out a way to take pictures for a living and have the satisfaction of knowing that you are making the world a better place, becoming a reporter seemed to be the perfect job for her. But the previous stories she covered had always been handled with a form of professional disenchantment. Of course this didn't mean she stopped sympathising with the victims but this particular month, starting from October 10, everything had been hitting her close to home. Of course she never knew all of them in a personal sense but she knew one Hikigaya Hachiman and watching him on a collision course towards his own demise was a painful experience. She tried to stop him, tried to help but when Saki Kawasaki failed, then she had no chance. She never admitted this to him but she looked up to him, sought his approval and on a fundamental level wanted to make him proud. Of course Hikigaya Hachiman was easy to please. He was a realist and a pessimist. He always felt unsteady when something good was about to happen to him because in his twisted mind, good news was always a bad sign. He loved Saki Kawasaki, she knew this no matter how much he denied and she also knew Saki Kawasaki loved him back. But fear stopped him but now he was branded a psychotic murderer and she didn't knew what was stopping him from telling the world otherwise. Hikigaya Hachiman is missing. The police have setup a manhunt to capture him before he kills anymore people but she already knows if he doesn't want to be found then the police might as well give up. He is that good.

"Stealth Hiki"

She smiled a little on imagining him saying this in his lazy drawl, listing one of his so called loner skills and with that happy thought she opened what seemed to be a love letter. It said it was from a secret admirer. She didn't recognize the handwriting but she wanted a good laugh after all the unhappiness she was having to deal with in the real world and she thought reading a love letter and pointing out all the mistakes and idiosyncrasies associated with the false notion of love without bothering to have the courage to face the person you are addressing might be a good pass time. Yes she admitted, she learned this from Hikigaya Hachiman, not that he ever received any love letter.

She opened the envelope and took out the letter:

"Not a love letter"

She immediately knew who wrote this. There was only one man who was capable of skipping over pleasantries all together even when writing a letter. She began to pay attention and started reading anew:

"Not a love letter.

RumiRumi getting careless. Could have been a letter bomb, could have contained Anthrax. Check carefully before opening anonymous mails, always told you so, you never listen. Listen now. Important. Very important. Didn't kill anyone. Tobe was already dead. Totsuka, Isshiki, Haruno all were killed by someone else. Not me. Can't bring myself to say I'm innocent. Would be a lie. Could have done something. More security cover, more police personnel, something different. Didn't. I am at fault, but not killer. Was framed.

Next topic is personal. Will address everyone on a first name basis. Need to feel like my life meant something. Going to die. Not alone, only hope. Bad grammar, wrong wording. Very embarrassing. Have patience."

And the letter ended there. She looked inside the envelope and found two more scraps of paper. She took one out and began to read.

"Tore pages. Thought they would make more sense.

Tsurumi, trust you to know I am not mad. Hopefully. I have formed a habit of writing in a journal, not an actual journal, which would cause safety issues if it was stolen by someone. No. I began to write in a mental journal. Of course telling you about this right now makes no sense, but I felt like writing about it anyway. Never knew writing was this difficult, remembering essays in high school. Getting sidetracked. Tsurumi, consider this letter a final entry in my mental journal in writing. I know having the full journal would have been helpful but I am trying to make do with what I have. The first journal entry in paper turned out to be the final. Anyway onto important things:

Yukinoshita Yukino is behind everything. Now I could say how I know this but that would make you an accessory of sorts, not really good with law but regardless she is behind everything. Now how many more people are involved I don't know but we are going to find out.

Yes. I said we.

Zaimokuza will be giving me a lift in his Ferrari. We have a long way to go and he decided to tag alone. Not sure why I am taking him but he is broken hearted and wants to die and when I said I am currently embarking on a suicide mission his 8th grader syndrome came back with a vengeance. He had a surprising amount of inventory, again won't be saying what, because we are in a grey area, but don't worry we will have some fire power. Not that it will help any.

Yukinoshita is in a safe house. Have to drive their and expect heavy security. Expect both of us to die before even confronting her. Alone, she is nothing but she has learnt to utilise her resources properly. She has learned to use others to save herself. This is nothing to be ashamed of and she knows this now.

Anyways moving beyond our impending doom, I broke up this letters into various scraps because they showcase my different moods. They are mostly disconnected but you can read the in whatever order you want. The first one was this, you know, you can almost feel the forced humour reeking from the pages, the second one is personal and a bit difficult to read because of faulty grammar and the last one will be a warning about how you opened this letter carelessly. Anyway, happy reading."

Tsurumi was beginning to think Hachiman was drugged. He was suffering from a serious case of mood swings. But she finally took out the last scrap of paper:

"Forgive bad writing. Final journal entry. No questions. Certain this is final. Left with Zaimokuza, know where we are headed. Ferrari is the worst vehicle made by man, never getting in another one. Zaimokuza is certain in his driving skills. Checked his license and registration. Everything perfect. Ready and prepared to take down Ice queen in her own fortress. Don't mention where. Everyone will know where when we get there. Expect something big to happen. Hate ruckus but no other options. Other players in this conspiracy? Don't know. One thing is certain Yukinoshita Yukino fooled everyone. She is responsible. My death will change nothing. Have many regrets but my death will change nothing. In last moments, writing this down, made me realise many things, not much time to write everything down. Bad handwriting, car bumping a lot, hope this is readable. Other things to worry before darkness and shadows swallow me whole. Listing regrets starting now.

I am responsible for my own death. Don't blame it on yourself and stop blaming others. No one has anything to do about it. Zaimokuza left a will. Hope it is found. Hope his fans forgive me for taking him along on this suicide mission. Hope everyone remembers me and forgives me for being so stupid.

Addressing everyone by first name now, want to show you I was made of flesh and blood and had feelings. Rumi you made me proud, you are the best reporter there is but I only hope you never become like me. Cherish your friendship with Keika, she will stop you when you get close to the edge. Taishi can marry Komachi. Sorry for missing out on your wedding and sorry for never meeting my nephews and nieces and Komachi, sorry for missing out on walking you down the aisle and giving you over to Taishi. Keika sorry for making you cry. You are the best little sister I could ever have, even better than Komachi, no I am not lying. You kept our broken home from falling apart. Hope you keep doing that.

Lastly, love ya Saki

Love ya

-8man, October 24, 2035

/

This concludes my first fanfic project.

Read, review, follow and fav.

And be on the lookout for some more stories.

Hope everyone likes it. I know the ending seemed rushed but I planned to have nine chapters from the very beginning. I know the chapters got short and the quality dropped but the common consensus is that this was not a popular project. But I couldn't leave this incomplete, so I finished it and gave it a much needed sense of closure. Hope everyone has no complaints and find this enjoyable.

Till then, goodbye.

Won't betray your dreams.


	10. The End is Nigh

Don't own Oregairu and Watchmen

Chapter 10: The End is Nigh

Four fire trucks, three ambulances and two police cars sprawled themselves across ground zero, setting up a perimeter and cordoning off devastated areas. Evacuation was top priority, keeping collateral damage to a minimum was a standby order and preventing further calamity was plain common sense.

Medics treated wounds, firemen doused flames and policemen stood watch. Foreboding and apprehension was thick amongst ruined landscapes and smouldering structures, breeding soot and smog and creating an atmosphere of decomposition and decay.

Scavenging for survivors, digging up people from debris and zipping body bags was a demoralising and inhumane experience for many capable men, meant to carry out duties and maintain law and order with discretion and decorum.

Dismembered limbs, disfigured corpses and spilling innards, sketched in many memories. Paramedics called time of death. Fire-fighters managed flames, prevented them from spreading further into domesticated neighbourhoods and successfully launched many rescue operations.

Not everyone was saved.

They lost a few of their own but regardless continued their operations to save civilians.

Law enforcement agencies stood watch, helplessly. Made in charge of crowd control, they found themselves forming a human chain and foiling attempts of anyone reckless enough to sneak inside. Watching families breakdown before their own eyes was disconcerting, having this recorded and televised by a teeming militia of journalists and cameramen was distressing, and having to answer unanswerable questions was a difficult and debasing skill which brought an unnamed shame to their uniform which was unbearable to swallow.

One young woman having more than a passing resemblance to a famous female entrepreneur was amongst this gradually growing mob. She had long dark hair and black eyes and though by profession she was a journalist, today she was just another worried soul praying for everything to turn out alright. She was clutching a letter containing a dying declaration from a man who changed her since she was in elementary school and continued to mould her throughout her entire adult life. She wanted him to stay alive. He had come for her once, when she was trapped in a burning high school building along with two of her friends and he had saved her then but here she was unable to return his favour. He was perhaps burning to his death and here she was partaking in a mob with unshed tears in her eyes. She will not cry, though in her mind she complains, how she never got to say to him how much his praise meant to her, how much his help meant to her, how much his presence meant to her, but she will never cry, not even when she sees his dead body, attends his funeral and visits his grave. Like him, she will break this promise.

Away, swarmed by heavy traffic and feeling guilt was a man with short, messy greenish hair and turquoise eyes like his sister, who was a detective by profession. He had received news from a family friend who was a journalist and after a moment of verification and exchanging information with his fellow policemen he had rushed outside leaving both his sisters to take care of his lover. His hands drummed uneasily over the steering wheel of this unmarked car taken without proper permission from police authorities and he found himself wishing to break every traffic law by flaunting his badge and waving his gun to make this vehicles standing before him, causing needless problems to traffic, disperse and dissolve from his presence. He honked again but to no avail. Traffic was flowing towards the opposite direction and here he was going against the flow to bring back a person who was foolish enough to leave him behind, stupid enough to send a badly written letter explaining nothing at the wrong address and then self-sacrificing enough to head into a potentially dangerous situation without any proper back up and to his best and utmost knowledge, without any planning whatsoever. Feeling powerless, he fumbled into his inner coat pocket to take out his phone and place a call gathering as much Intel as possible over the latest development taking place over this latest fiasco. While taking out his phone with an unnecessary jerk of his shoulder, he noticed something else spilling out from his pocket. It was incredibly small. He was being selfish, he admonished himself in his worries when he found himself panicking on not finding this incredibly small object but at this moment this incredibly small ornament contained everything he needed for a natural happy life. He found his brand new purchase, a ring with a princess cut diamond and without a word pocketed it safely inside his confines. Now was not a time to ponder over an unasked question. He will ask her after he finds her brother and if he finds him dead he will never find it in himself to come around to ask her this question.

Away and away, at a home three women gave courage to one another. Without a brother, without a lover, without their complete family, they found themselves giving shoulder to one another.

A young woman found herself openly crying in a corner. She was reading signs and getting signals of an expected proposal and now she was waiting for a call from him telling her whether her dear brother was alright or not, alive or not. She ran a hand over her ahoge, crying silently. Instead of finding matrimonial bliss, she would once again find herself attending a funeral parlour, giving a eulogy and looking over the burial process of her last family member. If her elder brother is dead she would have no one else to relate to by blood, if her elder brother is dead marrying would be out of the question and if her elder brother is dead she would never search for something so cruel like love. Never again will she love only to lose it all over again. She waited for a phone knowing it will be a long wait.

The eldest among these three young women with bluish hair and purple eyes, found herself on the verge of breaking. She had to remain strong, she was the oldest, she had to remain responsible and accountable and after this ordeal was over she had to pick up the pieces where he left off. Her birthday was on October 26 and though she never celebrated it with much gusto this time around she had decided to take matters into her own and make decision on his behest, decision that would affect both of them. Both of them were the eldest of their families, both of them sacrificed their own personal lives so that their siblings could have a chance at happiness, at life, at love, which was denied to both of them but after a lot of careful self-introspection, she reached an epiphany and she decided to try her chance at happiness, at least for once. She would have confronted him, taking advantage of her birthday but now it looked highly impossible. He had to go kill himself and make a spectacle of it. There was something between them, both of them knew it, only he was the one who failed to acknowledge it and now it was far too late. She loved him and by his poorly written letter he loved her as well but they never found the courage to express their love for one another in words. He wrote his feelings down in a poorly written letter only when he knew he was about to die and even then he lacked the courage to give it to her, instead leaving it at the doorstep of a close friend. He was a coward, he was flawed, he was doomed and yet here she was praying for his safe return, praying for her own brother to risk his life if he has to in order to save him and praying for him to let him be saved by someone else for once. However she was done praying to be together with him. They were not meant to be and though she loved him, it was better to let him leave instead of forcing him to be someone who he could never be. She will be with him but she will never be a part of him. Never again will she put herself first and try reaching for someone who will never be there for her in a capacity which she was secretly yearning for over a decade. Right now she only wanted him alive and back and though she hated it and him, she would be happy to maintain the status quo, if it meant he would once again be a part of their family, which was brought together by suffering and not by love.

The youngest of the three young women with blue hair and purple eyes which made her a look alike of her elder sister, only lacking in a serious outlook and mature temperament found herself losing again to sadness and bereavement. She was young in comparison to all of them but she understood what was happening and what would result with another death in their little family. She was crying, all of them were crying. Some whimpering, some sobbing, some weeping, but she had faith in her eldest brother more than anyone one of them. She trusted her older brothers, one was by blood, another by bond and though she was crying, she was waiting and praying and once again thanking for having such a great friend who disregarded her journalistic instinct and decided to inform them first of what was happening. She had to find some lingering ray of hope in all this turmoil and she had to be the one who made both her older sisters acknowledge that there was no shame in crying together while keeping assurance in one hand and reliance on another.

Away and away and away, at a hospital a female doctor with brown hair and greyish eyes received two critically wounded patients. At high school she was their senpai and now she was their doctor. There was nothing she could do for them except hand them over to a far more capable person. She was not a judgemental person, a doctor cannot have the luxury to pass judgement. They have to treat mass murderers and war heroes with impartiality and without any prejudice and these same capable hands had to write their names in prescriptions and medical sheets. However she thanked her luck on not being their operating physician. For once she found herself unable to move away from temptation by having them bleed all over an operating table. Both these high school friends always gave the impression that they were more than friends but never did they display such destructive tendencies. By the looks of it they will have to be answerable to a far greater authority than any meagre law enforcement division. If there is any consolation both of them will not survive the night, judging from the nature of their grave injuries but perhaps they might die together.

Away and away and away and away, a pair of bespectacled lovers reunited themselves and decided to keep a low profile by escaping the city through less scrutinised modes of transportation. Sadly, love trumped over friendship and pushing his Ferrari over a cliff would throw away others hot on their trails. He was simply following her instructions and she was simply thinking for both of them. After everything, both of them wanted to stay together, she wanted him and he accepted her. Love cost them everything and abandoning a friend was one of them. He knew his only friend would understand, he would expect nothing less from him and after many years when all of this is left behind them and maybe if both of them are still together then he would honour his friendship by visiting his grave. For now, he only looked at his love and comforted her by wiping her red spectacles with fresh new tears. Both of them are rotten and despicable but now they have a chance at life free from compromise and deception. Far from perfect but this was close to perfection for both of them and right now they needed solitude and a moment only for themselves. He hoped his friend would understand but he had no hope of making his family understand. Both of them will never be able to show their face to his surviving family members.

Away and away and away and away and away, two blondes, a man with blue eyes and a woman with olive green eyes, boarded a private chartered flight and informed their pilot to take them to a country with a non-extradition treaty with Japan. One would soon be a widower, he had high hopes of his wife not surviving this latest ordeal but he would never take this chance again. He was not alone, he had someone with him and it was high time he returned her feelings. After everything that has happened, after everything he did and after everything he had her to, she still wanted to be with him. He could ask for nothing more. He would return but only after confirmation of all their deaths. He would wait and live and enjoy his life with a woman he never cared about but who could do anything for him. She found love, not true, not reciprocated, but she would stay with him and protect him through this ordeal. She came back from the dead and proved everyone her worth and she was certain she had won him over this time around. After everything that has happened, after everything that will happen, she was still pining for him and he was still using her like a beard. After many deaths nothing changed them. She was in love and he was unable to love her back but he was exemplary at keeping up a carefully crafted pretence.

Somewhere, somewhere close, somewhere far, maybe here, maybe there, maybe somewhere else, a pair of dead fish eyes found new meaning, saw nothing but blindness and lack of oxygen made him lose consciousness. His lips moved and he said something. Completely inaudible perhaps unintelligible and incomprehensible, maybe a curse, maybe some garbled up garbage, maybe a misheard cough.

…Maybe a name

/

THE END.

Now everyone you might be wondering what is up with this chapter? I did nothing, I gave out no names, there was no dialogue, there was only description and more description.

Well you got more hints but nothing was explicitly mentioned. You are not certain whether 8man dies or not and neither are you certain about a lot of things. Like all those characters that randomly appeared and are completely out of context.

Well for those of you who were unfortunate enough to read the previously uploaded and horribly written Chapter 10 which I later deleted, you should know I'm writing a spin off.

It will be a romantic tragedy.

And it will explain everything from the very beginning. Like:

How Hikigaya lost his parents? How Saki lost her parents? What happened to all the characters in their final year of high school? What happened between Hikigaya and Yukino? And lastly why did Yukino do all of this? And exactly what did she do?

Well this project was written in a journal format and sadly not everything could be explained from how only 8man saw and interpreted things. Keep in mind this was my first fanfic and I learnt a lot from my mistakes which hopefully I will repeat in a lesser frequency. Yeah, I'm admitting to making mistakes, yeah I'm not perfect.

For now this is it.

Leave reviews, follow and fave

Won't betray your dreams

/

To The Greatest Guest Reviewer Ever (Yeah, if you won't give me a pen name I will give you one): I am dedicating this chapter to you.

Thank you, thank you for being completely honest with me. You were absolutely correct the "Chapter 10" I previously uploaded was horrible. It ruined the atmosphere, it ruined the build-up, and if it weren't for you it would have ruined this story.

Thank you for reading that horrible, badly written chapter and still giving me a review. You were right? Why should you praise me for bad writing? After getting an honest feedback from you I deleted that chapter. Sadly, in the process your review also got deleted. Please don't think I deleted your review. I would never do such a thing.

Hopefully this chapter will be a suitable apology.

/


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